


Cereal Too Crispy, Needs To Soak

by keijisosamu (combustible)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Law and Politics, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omegaverse, One Night Stands, One Night Stands to Heat Partners to Friends with Benefits to Friends to Lovers, Past: Miya Osamu/Semi Eita, Porn With Plot, Riding, Rimming, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 66,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combustible/pseuds/keijisosamu
Summary: Being an omega fucking sucks.or the abo!au where akaashi needs a heat-buddy to help him go through One (1) heat, and osamu is the perfect candidate.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu, minor: sakuatsu konoaran semishira ushiboku
Comments: 62
Kudos: 304





	1. Insufferable Closet.

**Author's Note:**

> all titles are titles of articles from the onion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> closet is akaashi, luggage is akaashi and polyglot is atsumu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good afternoon people,
> 
> i am finally crossing the line and starting a CHAPTERED fic. i'll update it randomnly, at times, when i feel like it, depending on how my mood swings. i already have the whole fic outlined so i should finish it.  
> by the end i guess this fic should be around 50k words, fingers crossed.  
> ( **edit from december 2020** : we reached 60k words and we're only halfway through so i guess it will be 100k+ ha! what a clown)
> 
> abo universes have always been kind of a weird thing to me, i used to read some back in the days (i.e. 2014), so i had to do some reading first (in other fandoms tho) to see what modern abos were on about now. but omegaverse has been My Biggest Challenge as a writer since i started writing fanfictions, and im a leo so I TAKE UP ON CHALLENGES.
> 
> \- klaudia, this would never have happened without you (is it a good or a bad thing? you tell me). muah.  
> \- anon on cc, this is for you, i have no idea who you are, but thank you for giving me The Thing that i needed to finally throw myself at abo universes!
> 
> lots of love to all of u. pls if you know me, no you don't. (i know i should be like 'write whatever you want' but still.  
> you know, sometimes, when life sucks and ure under lockdown again and the only thing that sparks joy are gay wolves running freely in the woods. then just go for it. (they're not actually in the woods tho.)
> 
>  **edit from december 2020**  
>  we are now finished with part i so i can finally put the right tw.  
>  **TW** mentions of general domestic abuse, xenophobia (that applies to omegas in our case), lack of consent during sexual intercourses, etc : please know that these things will be mentioned / not heavily described (won't happen, only will be talked about), not romanticized, but it will be discussed.  
> if you find yourself being triggered by one of these topics, please proceed with caution, i do not blame you for leaving this fic here, please take care of yourself first and foremost, i am sending you a lot of love.  
> <3  
> also, additional disclaimers: i am not a japanese law specialist. i make do with what i can find (wikipedia and my own knowledge of civil law systems) so pardon me for the inaccuracies. it's an au anyway so reforms happened in different ways than in our world; in this universe, i am god. (for example, i only found out halfway through the first part that shared custody wasnt a big thing in japan .. sorry)  
> 

##  _— part i ._

# FALLING

**CHAPTER 1.**

─✷─

_Closet With The Luggage All Fucked Up_

by **Akaashi Keiji**

─✷─

_october 2019_

It doesn’t come as a surprise when Akaashi decides to pull out an all-nighter to finish reviewing his opening statement, the one he’s been avoiding for hours. He's got a deadline to meet and Akaashi is nothing if not a serious man, ready to put himself on the line to help others. _Others_ meaning: his boss.

His office is cold and the only living thing there is the green cactus Konoha gave to him as a gift when he got his new job. Apart from this, he’s the only soul alive in the room, abandoned under the hard stare of white neon lights. The other associates are gone, probably still in the courthouse, or already back home. He's the only one that remains, the last standing tribute.

The building is far from being empty, though. It’s only seven p.m.; this firm never sleeps; its employees never rest. They have important cases to handle that matter more than _anything_ else.

But right now, Akaashi is staring at his laptop, not even seeing the words on his screen. Because there’s something _wrong_ about the way his brain feels.

[ Sigh. ] 

He knows the sensation. It's not familiar, but still, not foreign either. Unfortunately. His thoughts are already feeling blurry, wrapped in cotton candy, brain heavy as an adult boar. He knows these are only the first symptoms before his whole body starts feeling too hot, too tight for his very soul. 

_Fucking_ fantastic! 

It doesn't matter. He'll keep staring at the screen, wishing for the sensation to go away. (It won’t). He has this opening statement to review, and he _will_ do it. A long sigh escapes his lips, and he's desperately trying to relax his already tense body when someone knocks on the door. _Just two more hours please._ It's all he's asking for. But his brain already feels too slow, hazy from the upcoming heat. 

He can’t even bring himself to care about the pheromones he must be producing at the moment, as Udai Tenma slips his head in the door opening. The only thing his mind is focusing on is _how the fuck is he going to go through a heat when he has all these files to work on._ But even thinking about work is hard, because what his brain is _really_ focusing on, is how much he needs to get out of here _asap_ to put something (anything) in his ass to appease the terrible feeling of _emptiness._

Perks of being born for the sole purpose of being bred to create life.

Ha! What a joke. 

He can't even do _that_ , can't even perform his natural duties. He is nothing more than some sort of failed baby producer, a male omega. Still, society seems to think it’s funny to blame him for not being able to do what nature created him for.

From the moment you present, until the day you die, an omega will be reduced to exactly that. Their condition. _Omega_. 

_Listen to me child, you are now an omega. Before you are part of the human race, you are an omega._

It doesn’t matter that you can’t have children, or that you don’t _want_ to have children. You’ll still be an omega. Nature will make you go through heats, society will hold you responsible for being some sort of temptation for alphas. (Adam, Eve, the Snake. Stupid omega couldn't refrain from eating that apple and here you are.)

So yeah, being an omega sucks.

Thankfully, the past few decades have been softer for his kind. ‘ _Omegas are human beings’_. That small admission from the previous President of the United Nations, this simple statement, means great progress. _Wonderful, isn’t it?_

Still, some are still happy with being an omega, and some definitely hate their situation. Some want to challenge societal boundaries, break the mould that was created by alphas, for alphas. Others are perfectly fine with following orders, playing by the rules; more often than not, they still hate their cursed condition in silence. 

Because being an omega sucks. 

But Akaashi’s lucky enough to be born in this century. Meaning assaults against omegas, even because of _natural reasons_ (meaning, pheromones produced during heats, or even outside of them), are no longer justified under Japanese law. At least in theory. 

Also, he’s lucky enough to have the right to have a job, a bank account, and the right to vote. He can exist as an individual even without being _mated._ Ha. See? Fucking lucky. His grandparents did not enjoy this right.

Akaashi could be happy with his condition. But the thing is: he is not.

“It _reeks_ in here,” Udai’s voice comes from the door, as Akaashi lets his thoughts drift away to protect himself from the increasing panic slowly entering his mind. 

Sighing, he finally blinks before turning his head to meet Udai’s judgemental stare. 

“Yeah,” Akaashi simply acknowledges the _situation,_ “I’ll probably have to spend the night here.” 

Assaults because of heat pheromones might not be justified under Japanese law anymore, it doesn’t mean legal texts are correctly enforced. It certainly doesn't mean that alphas have learned how to behave.

Better be safe than sorry. 

“You want me to call a cab or something?”

He thinks of this new cab company that only hires omega drivers, in order to avoid any _incidents._

_We’re all born equals._ Until you’re the one society sees as _Weaker_ and disposable. Then, it’s the turn of private companies to make money off your fear. Society, governments, _alphas_ simply applaud these initiatives, as if it wasn’t their fucking problem too.

 _Whatever_.

“Nah, I have this report to finish, and I have to send the files from the _Hisamoto_ case to Oikawa’s office before Monday.”

“Well, you have a problem then.”

 _I know, thank you very much,_ Akaashi wants to say. He stays silent.

In all honesty, he just doesn’t want to think more about it. His spine is already hurting, his brain is buzzing like a pine tree full of bees, and his thoughts just feel like heavy clouds, blurry with rain. 

And _oh_ he can already feel himself growing wetter _down there_. 

Just perfect. 

“Unless you have a suggestion to fix it, I would rather try to focus on this statement, so I can at least _try_ to meet my deadline, Udai-san.”

“Come on, Akaashi- _san_ , you can’t really believe you’re going to go through a heat in five days if you spend it at the office, working.”

_(Hah! Fucking watch me!)_

But Udai is right. 

He’s _stupidly_ right and Akaashi hates him for it. 

See, Udai Tenma is a little shit, the only other omega in this building (that he knows of). He’s been happily mated for a few years now, so his heats are less of a problem for him (if they even are one).

He simply leaves for two days every month. No one talks about it. People have even stopped avoiding his satisfied face after he comes back from _sick leave._ They’re just all used to it by now. 

Tenma is one of these omegas who just accept their condition and show it off like some sort of fucking tiara. 

Akaashi is different. He’s sure half of the staff he works with still thinks he’s a beta.

“How do you usually go through-”

“We’re not talking about-” _heats_ “them.” 

Sometimes, he can’t even bear the idea of saying the word _heat_ out loud. And it's not like society helps omegas to accept such _shameful_ words. Heats are dirty, ruts are signs of power. That’s equality for you. 

Udai sighs, Akaashi glares. They're not friends. They’re colleagues and they get along well enough. _So, let’s try to keep it that way, shall we?_

“You have five days to finish-”

He grits his teeth. 

He knows. He **knows**. 

He drew the equation in his head as soon as he felt the first hints of a heat arriving, going through his body, approximately thirty minutes ago. 

He has five days before the Monday deadline hits. 

His heats usually last for seven days. If not longer.

He’s _fucked_. Well, no, that's the thing: he is very much not. Ha _fucking_ ha!

The good thing is, being born during this century includes having access to _suppressants_. That’s wonderful, he thinks. Instead of having to go through heats every month like a normal omega would, Akaashi only does so two or three times a year, preferably during his breaks, in July and December.

The bad thing is, he rarely _rests_ during these breaks. And his body always end up feeling weaker _,_ more exhausted. But that’s good enough of a balance for him. He usually stops taking his suppressants one month before his break, triggering his heat, and suffers through it without having to take a sick leave. Heats under suppressant suck. They fucking hurt, more than regular ones, but that’s a small price to pay to be free for most of the year.

But nature isn’t something that likes being tamed. And heats are no exception. 

Humans should have understood that a long while ago.

He’s been taking suppressants for as long as he presented at the sweet age of fourteen.

At first, they were a way to control his heats, to avoid missing a volleyball games, practice or class. Then, they became an excuse to avoid dropping out of college, until it became a routine. With the various deadlines that go with his position as a newly hired associate, Akaashi simply doesn’t have the luxury to be gone for five days a month. 

Especially since he’s not mated.

Being an omega fucking sucks, remember? Well it sucks even more when you’re single (or dating anything else than an alpha)

For all these reasons (and many others), Akaashi still takes suppressants. But after years of swallowing one every morning, his body stopped reacting to them as well as it used to. 

He’s now back to being a small pawn in nature’s not-so-gentle hands, meaning, sometimes, he goes into heat out of the blue. 

It’s not like it’s a surprise: it happens to most omegas likes him. The ones who have been under suppressants for too long.

The reason is simple: if omegas have control over their bodies, they won’t need to find a mate to make their heats more bearable, and it’s likely that the birth rate will suddenly drop. 

He’s not sure if this theory is true, but he’s sure that with a bit of funding and further research, this whole mess could easily be fixed. 

Years later, suppressants are still the same: an old dysfunctional treatment that makes omegas look for a mate as soon as they grow tired of their suffering.

So yeah. Even though his body is simply _unable_ to procreate, he still has to go through insufferable heats. 

He remembers begging Konoha to just give him whatever other medication he could think of to just make the heats _go away_. He remembers being twenty and just _so fucking tired_ of this stupid condition that would _never_ leave him, begging his best friend to just find something in his pharmaceutical encyclopedia to make it stop hurting. 

Being an omega fucking sucks. 

“I’ll find a way, Udai-san. Don’t worry,” he finally whispers.

It’s a damn lie. Udai knows it. Akaashi knows it. They both stare at each other. His brows disappear under his bangs, water is wet and Akaashi is a stubborn man.

“Whatever. See you tomorrow then.”

“Good night.”

Udai disappears, not without shooting one last worried look in Akaashi’s direction. But the younger man is already focusing back on his laptop, as if he wasn’t completely burning up from the rise of hormones. 

The older omega knows what it’s like, to be in his position, and so, he knows he shouldn’t interfere, knows it’s pointless. Try being a volleyball ace at nationals when you’re an omega. Yeah. _Been there, done that._ Now he just can’t bear the thought of hiding and not being proud of who he is anymore. 

But everyone isn’t like that. Some people need time, some people just aren’t like him. 

And that’s okay.

Once the door is closed, and Udai is far enough to not hear, Akaashi lets a long groan slip out of his lips. 

_Why now, why him, why, why, ugh_. 

He just can’t afford to be late on this project, not when his situation is so precarious. 

Being an omega does that to you, makes you the disposable one, the replaceable one, and people tend to expect nothing but Perfection from you. After all, they were gracious enough to trust him for this _important_ job, a job which should normally belong to an alpha _._

Just thinking about it, about _alphas,_ the simple thought of them and their pheromones, his whole body shivers, both from need and disgust.

He sighs. 

If he really wants to meet this deadline (and he does), his options are limited. 

> **1\. Keep working, ignore the heat.**

This had been the plan all along. 

But as minutes pass, he can already feel his body going stiff from tension, his boxer growing tighter and tighter. So, Akaashi slowly comes to the realization that it’s becoming less and less of a realistic option. 

Ignoring one heat might work when you’re actually going through your twelve heats per year, but certainly not in his situation. They might be rarer, but they're longer, rougher. And even for omegas with regular heats, it must still be damn uncomfortable to keep working with your head buzzing with _want, need, hunger-  
_

He mentally crosses out option one. 

> **2\. Go home to make the heat more bearable.**

He could also leave right now, take care of his heat and come back when the symptoms are gone. 

It’s what he would have done if his deadline hadn't been in _five_ days. 

Akaashi is a big boy, he’s been an omega for a strong decade now, so he knows how to take care of his excruciating heats. That's how he also knows it takes _seven fucking days_ for the symptoms to totally go away. He could be operational after four days of _taking care of himself_ (read: spending sixteen hours per day masturbating with a dildo made for omegas in heat stuck in his ass), leaving him with one day to work on his case, with only milder symptoms that wouldn’t make him completely _out of order_. 

Even if he spends four days handling his heat, there’s no way, _ever_ , that he’s going to meet his deadline.

He stares down at the mental picture of the metaphorical drain which is currently dramatically swallowing his second option. So, here goes option two. 

_Fuck. Him._

_(Yes, please, do.)_

> **3\. No one talks about option 3.**

There’s one last option that might allow him to meet his deadline: playing by nature’s rules.

_What does an omega in heat need?_

An alpha.

More specifically, they need _a knot_. Preferably, a mating bite, but that’s not a viable option for him, for various reasons. Mostly because Akaashi doesn’t want to belong to someone else under the law. And marriage already sounds like too much trouble for his commitment issues. So let’s say that bite marks are what he pictures as his worst nightmare, his own personal (sexy) Boggart.

Well, it's pretty simple: an omega in heat needs a knot, if not a mate, to ease the symptoms. It should take a few hours. It might take an entire day, but if he doesn’t sleep for the four remaining days, then it should be alright, he can accept to waste twenty-four hours. 

If he’s smart enough about this, this whole mess might be taken care of by tomorrow afternoon. 

_Ugh._

Being an omega fucking sucks.

 _Such a damn drag_ (it’s more than a ‘damn drag’, but he conditioned himself into thinking that if he doesn’t acknowledge the total _unfairness_ of his condition, it might feel less insufferable).

He needs a knot. The joke’s on him, though, because he doesn’t have a mate. 

No one talks about option three when you’re an unmated omega. It’s a taboo (of course it is, anything surrounding omegas and their sexuality is. Only alphas can brag about going into rut). It has always been an option, he just usually chooses to ignore it until- well, until right now, with his sad lack of other options. 

It makes sense to do that. It totally does. It’s the logical, most reasonable option. But after years, after almost a full decade of resisting his own _urges_ , here he is, his phone in hand, slowly giving up, and it definitely doesn’t feel good. 

He remembers turning down Konoha’s proposition a while ago, when he told him about that app that helps you find safe(-ish) alphas to spend your heats with, with _no feelings attached_. A _heat buddy_ they call it.

Akaashi always thought he was _stronger than that_ , that he could take care of himself. 

Well nature is fucking laughing down at him now.

He opens the app and sighs as he starts the registration process. It’s not the perfect option, but it’s good enough. 

_Name._

There's no way he could lie about this, right?

_Age._

He’s old enough, that’s all they need to know, he thinks as he enters a fake date of birth. And it’s not like his _heat buddy_ will be interested in celebrating his birthday with him anyway. He’s not looking for a best friend, thank you very much.

Quickly reading the terms and conditions, he doesn't notice anything too shady, grimaces at the data protection part, but oh, well. He clicks on the _register_ button. 

He better get fucking laid tonight, or he'll lose his damn mind.

A few hours still remain before the heat kicks in for real, before he’s reduced to a moaning mess who can only think about putting something in his ass (preferably something big, and warm, and attached to a handsome alpha). So, he takes his time to select _the one_ , swiping through the different profiles. Grimacing, he can feel himself grow wetter at the simple thought of any of these alphas being close to him.

 _It’s been long since the last time,_ he realizes. He didn't get any real action during his heats since college, and even then, he mostly handled them alone, sometimes hooking up with betas, but always carefully avoiding alphas after some douchebags tried biting him against his will.

His thumb mechanically swipes through tasteless boring profiles and silently thanks all the gods above for the fact that he lives in Kōbe, and therefore has a lot of options. There’s something unhealthy about this; it's probably the way he feels like he’s grocery shopping but hey, society made him do it. 

He saves some profiles that _might_ be interesting, until his thumb pauses at the sight of afamiliar face. Akaashi vividly remembers seeing it on the other side of a net, a few years ago, grey eyes meeting his, as he managed to surprise him with a setter dump that won a point for Fukurodani during the semi-finals of their last high-school tournament.

No name is attached to the profile, only a pseudonym, but he doesn’t need a verbal confirmation to _know._ His hair is back to black now, though, but there's no doubt. It _is_ Miya _fucking_ Osamu, who's grinning at him on his phone screen.

The memory is still sharp in his brain. 

And maybe seventeen years old Akaashi had stared at him for a little bit too long, because he can still remember his broad shoulders, his indifferent eyes, even his polite smile. He also may have thought of Miya Osamu during a few wanking sessions after the tournament; but that's irrelevant.

A slight crush he had totally forgotten until- well- right now.

They weren’t friends, not even _rivals_. He doesn’t even know if Miya remembers him. At least, he knows the guy really exists, and that he’s somehow _decent,_ and good-looking (which is definitely a plus).

It’s not the healthiest move, but in times of despair, when anxiety is high enough to overwhelm him completely, and finding an alpha is the only option Akaashi has, finding a familiar face is the only thing that can make it bearable. He’s not going to pick a total stranger when Miya Osamu is an option, even if he used to fantasize about him in high school (especially because he used to fantasize about him in high school?)

─✷─

_Famous polyglot manages to be absolutely insufferable in all seven languages. _

by **Miya Osamu**

─✷─

┌───────────────────────┐

[ _You have 1 new message._ ]

└───────────────────────┘

It’s almost eight p.m. when Miya Osamu’s phone lights up urgently next to his empty cup of coffee. The man doesn’t even have the time to take a proper look at the notification before the face of his disaster of a brother appears over his shoulder, looking at the lightened up screen where the pink and orange icon makes it very clear what the message is about.

“You’re still using this thing?” Atsumu stares at him with his eyebrows raised, eyes full of _judgement_. 

“Stop looking at my phone, shithead.”

Especially when it’s revealing things about his sex life. He doesn’t need Atsumu to know that he is still using the _Heat-buddies_ app sometimes. He doesn’t need this, not right now, not ever, and thankfully, the gods are merciful today because his brother quickly changes the subject.

“Shut it, I thought it might be an email about the internship.”

“Why would it be on _my_ phone?”

“I thought it was mine. By the way, have you seen it?”

“You left it in the kitchen.”

“I should go check-”

“It’s 8 p.m., they’re not going to answer now,” Osamu notes, but nonetheless adds, “but feel free to leave.”

“These people never sleep anyway,” Atsumu mumbles, not showing any sign of having heard his brother's (not so) implied request for him to _leave_ his room.

“Well, I’m sure these lawyers are not the ones who will reply to your internship application. They have HR people to do that, and these folks leave their office at 7 p.m.”

Atsumu groans next to his ear (very close to his ear), before he lets himself fall directly on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

“Why don’t you leave?” Osamu suggests, but his twin brother doesn’t look like he wants to even _hear_ him, because he just straight up ignores the request, sighing dramatically at the light bulb above his head. 

“I can’t believe they haven’t answered me yet. It’s been what? A week?”

“Yeah, and that probably means you got rejected.”

“Thanks for the support.”

“It’s not like you wanted it anyway.”

“Yeah, but I would have appreciated the power-move to reject _them_.”

“You’re a fucking ass.”

Atsumu laughs and shrugs. He’s laying on the floor, wearing an old red hoodie, and even Osamu finds it weird now, to see him out of his usual expensive suits that he usually wears for work.

“So, you’re still using that app.”

“Sometimes.”

More realistically, he simply never deleted his profile and usually turns down any request he may receive. It’s not like he really has the time to get a new _buddy_ at the moment, with the amount of work he's drowning in and his life being like it is (meaning, busy). His old days spent helping unmated omegas overcome their heats seem to be (sadly) over. 

“This better not be the new Eita though.”

Well, _fuck_ , he almost managed not to think about Semi when the notification showed up on his lock screen, under the big white 7:43 p.m. But it's too late now.

“You better not be thinking about him.” 

_You're the one who said his name, asshole_ , he wants to say, but instead, he just mumbles, “I'm not.”

“It’s a shame you’re such a bad liar.”

“It’s a shame your face is so ugly and yet, I don’t mention it.”

Miya Atsumu, age: twenty-four, _the_ new rising figure of the Hyōgo political scene, future member of the Hyōgo Prefectural Assembly, looks at his little brother, and sticks out his tongue. 

“Stop it, you’re even uglier like that,” Osamu groans.

The blond man quickly stands up, proceeding to finally walk out of the room, not without giving Osamu the middle finger one last time, for good measure. 

_Dickhead._

But at least, Osamu can now go back to his phone, where the annoying little green dot is still blinking back at him, desperately trying to catch his attention.

And suddenly, he’s glad Atsumu isn’t there anymore. 

Right there, on his screen, staring back at him, is a picture of someone Osamu has not thought about in _years_. He remembers a sharp jaw and dark eyes, and these features sure haven’t changed. His hair is longer now, though, and thick glasses are now perched on top of his nose. But he is still entirely recognizable, especially for someone who has seen this face from up close, across a volleyball net, grinning at him after a setter dump.

“What the fuck?” Osamu whispers under his breath.

┌───────────────────────┐

[ _You accepted_ _Akaashi Keiji_ _’s request_ ]

└───────────────────────┘

The request is simple, nothing he's never seen before. An omega going through a heat, in need of an alpha to help him go through it faster: nothing serious, hopefully only a one-time thing that would last for a few hours, maybe two days if it's bad.

He doesn’t receive as many requests as he used to. Sure, he started this whole thing for all the wrong reasons (to meet omegas who would _need_ him, to get his dick wet without having to do much effort, to experience new things, to find His One True Love. All of them at the same time, at some point, even). But then, Semi happened, and, _yeah._

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_Good evening, Akaashi :)_

└──────────────────┘

Osamu smiles, satisfied. Hopefully, he managed to type something that doesn't sound too weird. It’s friendly enough, but not too friendly either. It’s perfect. It sounds a message he would send to a Airbnb host who is less than forty years old. Still polite, but not stick-up-in-the-ass polite either. It’s perfect.

┌────────────────┐

**Akaashi Keiji**

_Good evening, Miya-san._

└────────────────┘

He suddenly wonders if Akaashi remembers him. Sure thing, Inarizaki won against Fukurodani, but it’s not like he still looks like what he used to back then, grey hair long gone in favour of its natural colour. 

Call him altruistic, selfless, but he just can’t ignore someone he (more or less) knows behind. Not when he can easily help. Not when Akaashi is only looking for a one-night stand to help him go through his heat quickly. At least that’s what his profile is saying. Osamu doesn’t _really_ know the man, but he somehow doesn’t picture him as a liar. 

So, sure, he’s going to accept his first heat-buddy request in four years. The first one in two years after breaking up with Semi. _Cool, cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt._

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_I am free right now._

_Do you have a particular place where you'd like to meet?_

_Or anything you'd like me to know beforehand?_

└──────────────────┘

The only rule he established with himself when starting this _heat-buddy_ thing is to never let anyone come to his place. First, because Atsumu would never let him breathe after hearing him having sex with an omega in heat, and second, just because. They’re heat buddies, not boyfriends or partners, let alone _mates_. His various adventures with the heat-buddy system usually ended up being one-night stands, sometimes leading to short partnerships lasting for a few months, but that remained strictly _pheromone-induced_. No feelings, no attachment, no mating or anything.

Until Semi, but _hey,_ let the man feel stuff sometimes. He's only human. 

┌──────────────────┐

**Akaashi Keiji**

_Thank you very much._

_I can send you the address of a hotel near my place._

_I am currently working and have around an hour before the symptoms really kick in._

└──────────────────┘

┌──────────────────┐

**Akaashi Keiji**

_I however want to inform you that I am usually under suppressants and that this is an unplanned heat._

└──────────────────┘

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_Sure._

_No problem :)_

└──────────────────┘

Miya Osamu is human, and therefore, he is not above being judgemental. But blaming someone for using suppressants is the last thing that would cross his mind. Not since Semi, at least. And even before that, he’s never been the type to brag about following Nature’s rules or whatever. 

But he still grimaces. Unplanned heats are never fun for omegas. Semi made them sound particularly annoying back then. Not that Osamu would even know what _real_ heats were like anyway, but that's another story.

┌──────────────────┐

**Akaashi Keiji**

[ Akaashi Keiji sent an attachment. ]

_I will be there in around half an hour._

└──────────────────┘

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_Okay._

_It should take me a bit less than an hour to get there._

└──────────────────┘

┌──────────────────┐

**Akaashi Keiji**

_Perfect. I will text you the room number once I get there._

└──────────────────┘

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_I will meet you there._

  
└──────────────────┘

┌────────────────────────┐

[ _You have accepted the_ _partnership_ _request._ ]

└────────────────────────┘

His hair is still wet from his shower when he wraps his scarf around his neck. October is already getting colder and he’d rather not get sick, thank you very much.

“So you’re going to meet a random stranger?”

Osamu almost retorts that he’s _not a stranger_ but identity disclosure, although not illegal per se, would be seen as inconsiderate. He doesn’t know if everyone knows Akaashi is an omega. It’s not that uncommon for people to hide what their secondary gender is, especially those who take suppressants. And he doesn't remember smelling anything weird back in high school, he simply assumed he was a beta, without giving it much thought.

So, he just shrugs at his brother and puts his shoes on.

“I won’t be back before tomorrow. Apparently it’s an unplanned heat, so it might take a while.”

“Sure thing.”

“Text me if you get an answer from your lawyers.”

Atsumu hums, but goes back to whatever he’s watching on TV, his hand scrolling mindlessly on his phone. The thing is always blowing up with notifications, and Osamu really doesn’t know how his brain can avoid frying when looking at it. 

Seeing more than ten notifications usually makes him want to ignore them all (which, he usually does)

“Have fun!” Atsumu yells before he closes the door.

“I will.”

He’s not sure about it. Every heat-buddy is different. Thankfully he can’t say he ever had a _disastrous_ experience. Some were better than others, which isn’t surprising considering the amount of emotions heats tend to bring up inside an omega’s mind. But he never had to find out an omega he was hooking up was already mated, so that's already a good thing.

He closes the door and starts walking towards the nearest 7-ELEVEN he can find. Sometimes, his partners will think about everything, but he’d rather be safe than sorry and have too many condoms, too much lube and too much food. 

Not that there ever could be _too much food._

┌──────────────────┐

**Akaashi Keiji**

_I’m in room 187._

└──────────────────┘

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_I should be here in five minutes._

└──────────────────┘

He usually faces these encounters like everything else he faces in life: with idiotic detachment. 

Even the way he presented was surrounded by a thick fog of total disinterest. But that’s something that always comes with privilege: you don’t realize you have them; you live your life like it's nothing, never realizing it's a gift from society that stands on unfair foundations. 

So yeah. Sixteen years old Miya Osamu presented as an alpha one night, only a few weeks after Atsumu, popping his first knot into his fist. It didn’t come as a surprise to anyone. One day, the famous twins became the famous Alpha twins and life went on. 

Nothing to see there. (Sometimes he still wonders what would have happened if he had presented as an omega) (it doesn’t matter) (does it?)

It’s been a while since he last was in the same room as an omega in heat, he thinks as he comes out of the metro (the word Semi appears in red letters in his mind, and he has to physically shake them off). He had some pleasant one-night-stands with betas since _that time_ , but nothing serious, nothing _pheromone-induced._ Nothing like what's about to happen.

 _Akaashi needs_ _help, so I will help him._ This thought alone should have activated some alarm bells in his mind, but somehow, he can't bring himself to care about consequences right now. _Akaashi needs help, so I will help him._ Yeah. Right.

──

When he arrives at the (pretty fancy) hotel Akaashi chose, he only has to give his name to the receptionist for her to nod politely, handing him a key with a small keychain that says _room 187._

It's 8:42 p.m when he knocks on heavy mahogany, and hears Akaashi's voice for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).


	2. Scary Lipstick-Covered Shampoo Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> man is akaashi, shampoo bottle is akaashi, and water bottle is osamu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gooooooood evening,  
> i am back with chapter 2 and this time there is smuuuuuuuuut yay!
> 
> \- klaudia, i am sending you lots of love and strength, i am so proud of you <3  
> \- cc anon, i hope you will like it!!!

**CHAPTER 2.**

─✷─

_Man Relieved Movie Won’t Be Too Scary After Character Assures Friend There No Such Thing As Ghosts_

by **Miya Osamu**

─✷─

_october 2019_

Osamu closes the door behind him before he actually dares to look at the man sitting on the bed in front of him. The scent is already strong in the small room, a mix of sweat and just the general smell of _sex_ but coated in a smell that reminds him of Sakusa’s hand sanitizer. It's due to the suppressants, since they tend to alter normal heat perfume and pheromones. 

“Good evening,” Akaashi’s voice is calm, neutral, and he’s looking at Osamu from behind his glasses, lips slightly pressed in a tight polite smile.

“Good evening,” the alpha answers with the same steady tone. 

They eye each other, Osamu still standing in front of the closed door, Akaashi sitting on the bed. Tension is so thick it’s almost palpable. 

“How are you?” Osamu finally asks, and Akaashi chuckles.

“I’m in heat and I have an important deadline to meet. I’ve seen better days.”

“Oh, yeah.” _Right. Makes sense._ “Do you have preferences, or anything you want to tell me before we start?” _before the pheromones make us dumb_ , Osamu asks with the softest tone he can summon in a room full of heat pheromones. 

A few years ago, he may have started the thing by aggressively kissing the other man, to _get in the mood,_ without asking anything else. But he’s not eighteen anymore, has some control over his own hormones. Most importantly, he knows now that asking too many questions is better than none. 

“I don't want you to get all _alpha_ over me,” Akaashi answers matter-of-factly, “I just- need the release. Fast and simple." 

“Okay.”

But asking this question apparently makes Akaashi’s internal thinking wheels turn at high speed, because he quickly adds, “and no reference to _omega_ stuff.”

“Okay.”

Frankly, it’s not that surprising. Not everyone is into that kind of thing and people who take suppressants are more likely to want to ignore that part of them, the one that needs an alpha to function.

“Maybe just- don’t speak,” Akaashi finally adds, “let's just get this over with.”

Osamu can’t help but laugh softly; he ends up shrugging. He’s here to help, and if Akaashi has terms and conditions, then he’ll gladly accept them all, even the ones he doesn’t know of yet.

“If you really want to just get it over with, I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

“Good.”

His shoulders are tense, Osamu can see it from where he stands, he can see him trying to look serious and confident, but his eyes look so _scared too._ And somehow, that doesn’t sit right with him. He can deal with nervous, can deal with annoyed-with-heat-symptoms, can deal with almost anything, but he just can’t have sex with someone who is so obviously scared of _him._

“But you know, since we’re at it, you might as well get some fun out of it.”

Osamu is not an omega, he never even thought about presenting as one. Since he was three, people have told his parents _'th_ _ese two are going to be big strong alphas'_ and both twins have been lucky enough to actually become ones. 

So, no judgement here.

But he has met his fair share of omegas in heat, some more in sync with their bodies than others, and he can say with confidence that the ones who didn’t indulge into punitive sex overcame their symptoms faster. 

He tries to smile, a small reassuring smile, the one he'd wear to approach a scared kitten for the first time.

“But if you just want to make it go away, that’s fine too,” he whispers.

Akaashi stares at him from the bed, and he can see a sort of haze over his grey eyes, like a lid around his soul, that slightly goes away as he blinks, obviously taken aback by the suggestion. Maybe he was expecting someone more aggressive, more demanding.

Someone more like his seventeen-year-old self. 

“I just- No alpha or omega stuff, and it should be fine. The first wave should hit soon.”

And if he still seems cold, he still visibly relaxes. Good. Osamu nods and quickly takes off his shoes, his socks and his coat before going back to his bag. He opens the front pocket and looks at Akaashi who’s now mindlessly scrolling through his messages on his phone, obviously trying to distract himself. 

“Did you bring condoms?”

“I have some in my bag,” Akaashi says, and Osamu notes with amazement, that his tone is still completely neutral. There's no sign of the hormonal turmoil that, he assumes, is going on inside his brain.

“I brought mine, but if you don’t trust-”

“It’s okay, you know better about your size than me.”

Osamu laughs; but there’s nothing funny about this whole conversation. The simple fact that he has to ask an omega if he trusts him enough to not suspect he would pierce his condoms or whatever thing some alphas do these days, is already too grim to be funny.

“Do you have your last STDs test results?” Osamu asks, swallowing back his nervousness to quickly get the awkward questions over with.

“Yeah,” Akaashi shows him his phone, and Osamu silently thanks the gods for creating a safe app about health information that makes all this mess easier. 

He goes back to his bag to retrieve his own device, a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube. He shows the other man his own clean results, and puts everything on the small bedside table. 

It’s only then that he notices that he actively refrained from breathing too hard with his nose, using his mouth instead, in order to avoid inhaling the scent of heat emanating from Akaashi. But even while breathing through his mouth, he can already smell the first wave approaching. 

Thank god he has gained some experience through the years, and now knows with some alarming automatism how to go through the few moments that come before the first wave, what to do, what to say.

He’s pretty sure Atsumu doesn’t even know half of the stuff he should know about potential omega partners (not that he's had any in the last few _years._ From what Osamu knows about his brother’s sex life (read: _too fucking much_ ), it's only composed of encounters with other alphas).

“I have snacks and bottles of water in my bag for later,” he says as he puts the bag next to his side of the bed. Akaashi slowly nods, eyes now focused on his movements, his phone back on the nightstand.

He still seems totally conscious though. 

And he must sense the questions rising in Osamu's mind because he answers them with a small sigh.

“It’s a heat under suppressants: my mind doesn’t drift away. I’m still in control of my body, and the need doesn’t make me lose my mind. But it still hurts all the same and I have trouble focusing on work stuff, so I have to take care of it.”

“That’s inconvenient,” Osamu whispers. He sits down on the bed, cross-legged, a few centimetres from the omega, and _yeah_ the scent is definitely getting stronger. 

Biting the inside of his lip to bring his own mind back to focus, he sighs. One more thing before they can start, one more thing to be completely safe.

“I know how to control myself. If you want me to stop at any time, just tell me and I will stop.”

“Okay.”

“Are you familiar with colour codes?”

“I guess.”

“Okay. Just say red and I will stop everything. And if you tell me to just _stop_ , I will stop. Whatever comes easier for you.”

He usually doesn’t remind his partners of that, but somehow, he can still sense clear discomfort in Akaashi’s behaviour. It doesn’t take a genius to guess that it’s his first time meeting an alpha in these conditions. 

So, he definitely won’t try to discuss kinks or anything that involves the word _stop_ not making him actually _stop._ That’s for another day. If another day ever comes. Why is he even thinking about _another day._

“One last thing-” Osamu starts, clearly hesitant.

He might be used to the procedure, he still feels nervous when he has to ask for _this_.

Akaashi’s eyes are on him and when he meets his gaze, Osamu has to hold back a growl as an instant shiver runs down his spine from this brief intangible contact. Pheromones are now hitting his system, making him more and more aroused, harder to just _focus_.

 _Focus._

Osamu opens the main pocket of his bag and takes out a large leather collar that he hands to Akaashi. The man looks at him with (badly) hidden fear. It takes everything he has to restrain himself from just wrapping the guy in his arms to _reassure him,_ tell him he won’t hurt him- _What the hell?_ Okay, it’s only natural instincts to want to make omegas trust you when you’re an alpha, right? (It’s not, he’s had many omega partners, and he didn’t particularly need them to trust him.) 

“It’s to prevent me from biting your mating gland. I'll bite into the collar. It's thick enough to not be pierced by my teeth.” 

He immediately sees Akaashi relax as his fingers tighten around the dark thick leather, like he’s trying to get a grip on the situation, to accept it.

“I won’t bite you, but I- accidents happen and I just don’t want you to be in this situation.” 

No one wants an unwanted mating bite. Especially not an omega. Procedures to get them removed are a pain, and there's some liability shit surrounding the process for the alpha so-

“Better be safe than sorry,” Akaashi whispers, blinking at the collar; but he still nods slowly. Osamu almost sighs in relief. He may not want to be reminded of his condition, but some things just can’t be ignored.

“Yeah. And once this is over you can just- you can just throw it away,” _or keep it for next time._

Next time. 

_What the fuck, ‘Samu?_

“Do you want to eat something in the meantime?” Akaashi randomly asks as he puts the collar next to his pillow.

Osamu almost laughs at the question. It's the first time in all the years he's been using the app that an omega asks him if he wants something to eat. But sure, he can’t say he hates it. 

Maybe he even likes it. 

_Maybe._

“Don't you want to build a nest or something?” he asks as he takes an energy bar from his bag (he keeps the onigiri for later) and hands it to Akaashi before taking one for himself.

“It's an unplanned heat, so I don't really feel the need to build one, and even then, it's not like I have anything to build it with.”

No alpha that would make him want to build a nest then. 

_In-te-re-STING_.

He bites eagerly into the strawberry bar.

“Is it the first time you’re… meeting someone for an unplanned heat?” Akaashi casually asks, obviously more relaxed now that they’ve stopped talking directly about what’s about to happen.

“No, but I’ve been told the symptoms are different depending on the treatment, and the person.”

“Yeah, I guess. Well, the hormones affect my body, but I don’t lose control over my own mind like I do when I’m in _real_ heat.”

“I see.”

“So, I don’t need to nest or anything, but the heat is still incapacitating. I can’t go to work and since I have a deadline to meet- Hence my use of the app.”

Osamu nods slowly, and watches the man next to him bite into his energy bar with unnecessary strength. His eyes close for a second as he chews on it and his cheeks get a bit rounder. _Cute_. They settle in a weirdly comfortable silence before Osamu goes to the bathroom to wash his hands. 

When he comes back from the bathroom, with only a pair of underpants remaining, he's happy to see Akaashi's gaze darken as soon as his eyes land on him. 

It’s because of the _heat_ , he tells himself (but maybe he would find him attractive even outside of his heat) (let a man dream).

“I should go wash-” Akaashi says, maybe to help dissipate the heavy silence that settled in the room with the appearance of Osamu’s almost nude body. 

“I have wet wipes in my bag, if you want,” he automatically suggests, knowing how tiring pre-heat hours can be. Even walking to the bathroom would be unnecessarily tiring for the omega in this state.

Their eyes meet and there’s both surprise and some sort of admiration in Akaashi’s eyes when he nods. What kind of alpha was he used to meet, for him to be this surprised by basic human decency? 

Osamu wonders.

“My brother’s boyf- colleague is kind of a germaphobe, so we got used to carrying wipes everywhere with us, just in case.”

“Oh. I see.” Akaashi smiles (why does he look so _nervous?_ ) when he accepts the wipe Osamu hands him, “that’s very nice of you.”

The room is now completely filled with pheromones, and he can already tell that the first wave is only a few seconds away from hitting. Still, as he watches Akaashi carefully wash his hands, wiping the sweat from his long fingers, Osamu can safely and sincerely say that the omega is even more beautiful than he used to be, back in high school.

Once his hands are clean, and the wipe is tossed into the bin next to the bed, Akaashi quickly takes a look at his phone before letting out a long groan that escapes the gap between his pink lips. 

  
  


─✷─

_Label Of Prescription Shampoo Shamefully Turned To Face Wall_

by **Akaashi Keiji**

─✷─

When Miya Osamu comes out of the bathroom, time seems to stop for a second. It’s such a stupid cliché, but the guy appears with soft light coming from behind him, and he _does_ look like Akaashi’s own Lord and Saviour. 

Years have been kind to the alpha, his shoulders are still as broad as ever, and now that he can see his bare skin and the sharp shoulder blades- Well, let's say that his sixteen-year-old self is definitely not disappointed. His twenty-four-year-old self isn't either. 

He’s not wearing anything other than tight black boxer shorts, and Akaashi finds it _really hard_ to hide the tightness in his throat as he swallows down his own saliva. On the other hand, he’s still wearing his buttoned up shirt, his tie and his black pants that now feel very tight.

Alphas are _shameless_ , he mumbles to himself, but Osamu is too busy searching in his bag to hear him, giving Akaashi a particularly spectacular view of his ass that makes his mouth water.

But when Osamu lets himself fall on the bed with a small grin and hands him the wet wipes, Akaashi’s brain simply stops working for a second. A man with such an _ass_ should not be this kind, should not even have the right to be this good. 

_E_ _rror_404_

_Brain not found.  
_

With a small nod, he accepts the wipe and quickly cleans his hands, promptly going back to his phone to distract himself from Osamu’s very naked chest, his very defined abs and his still covered ass. He’s _too close and too hot_ and Akaashi simply refuses to stare at these toned legs and these outrageously sharp collarbones. He won’t give the alpha this satisfaction, doesn’t have any interest in him, they’re just here for _business_. 

But it’s becoming harder with every passing minute, to focus on the words on his screen, brain too busy noticing the tension in his back, the wetness between his legs. He closes the last mail Oikawa sent him without even reading it and sighs dramatically. 

“It’s hitting, right?” 

Osamu’s voice is so smooth and so deep and Akaashi’s pants are _tight_ and soaked, but he just can’t- He sighs and he opens the last text he got from Konoha, tries to type an answer, before he lets out a groan. 

_It is, indeed, hitting._

His long fingers grip his phone tighter, knuckles slowly growing white. His grits his teeth as the first wave runs over his body, making his skin shiver, his back arch, and he’s really close to let out a pitiful moan, but he still has some dignity left-

“Akaashi-” Osamu’s voice sounds even smoother and deeper than before, like honey on a sore throat, and it feels _reassuring-_ , and it's so close to his ear that his breath tingles the thin skin of his neck, and- “Akaashi, I can smell it hitting, if you want me to help, I can.” 

It’s a miracle his phone is still alive under the pressure of his fist. He closes his eyes and bites his tongue. _Osamu can help him_. He sighs, tries to ride the sudden wave of _warmth_ that is going through his shivering body and the never ending waltz of thoughts that sound like _please, just make it stop_. But he knows it’s only the beginning. 

_Osamu can help him._

Somehow, he finds it easier to resist the temptation of touching himself when there’s an alpha sitting next to him, watching him. Call it pride or masochism, Akaashi calls it dignity.

“Akaashi, it’s okay if you want to take off your clothes.”

His teeth are now piercing the skin of his chapped bottom lip and despite Osamu’s voice coming from next to him, he feels like he’s completely _alone_ , alone on this bed with only waves of _arousal, need_ , hitting him, only slightly retreating to let him breathe before they hit him again, and again, and again-

Apart from his quick breaths and his slightly arched back, he knows he still looks perfectly _normal_. 

He, however, does not smell normal, and apparently it's really all it takes for Osamu to start showing his true nature, because the alpha suddenly moves.

It only makes Akaashi tense more, and suddenly, he’s ready to move, to run (but he can’t run, not in this _fucking_ state), and Osamu could do whatever he wants to him- why did he use that fucking app, why was he so careless, why did his body betray him like that, why, why, _why?_

“Hey, Akaashi, look at me.”

Osamu is moving, his mind registers. His voice is closer now, and he’s sitting in front of him, on his knees, eyes dark with- _worry?_ Akaashi lets out a small breath, and his entire body shakes when the other man puts his hand on his fingers that are still tightly holding on his phone for dear life. 

His hand is bigger than Akaashi’s, his fingers colder, and his skin is smooth, and the omega can’t help but imagine these fingers touching his face, caressing his cheek- Osamu’s thumb softly touches the tip of his fingers, gently pushing on them to make him lose his grip.

“Don’t make it harder for yourself, it’s okay to take care of your heat.”

Akaashi’s breath is caught at the back of his throat, but their gazes meet and Osamu’s clear eyes are soft, and kind. It might be manipulation, but he still finally gives in, his fingers letting go of his phone. Osamu carefully puts it on the bedside table, but comes back quickly to sit in front of him again. 

“Do you want me to leave while you take off your clothes?”

Blinking once, twice, Akaashi shakes his head slowly.

“No, it’s okay.”

He can see some relief in Osamu's features when he finally speaks, not sure if it’s because he doesn’t ask him to leave or because he somehow miraculously snapped out of his swirling thoughts.

“Do you want me to help you?”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t even think for a second that the guy is _annoying_ with all his questions. To the contrary, it makes him feel, if not safer, at least more at ease.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yeah?”

He wants to do this, he wants to get back to his office as soon as this is over, he has to do this, he wants to. His body is getting impatient, and Osamu’s soft grey eyes, full of worry (why does he look so worried?) make him want to nod. 

So, he does.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Are you sure you’ve done this before? You seem pretty hesitant to me,” Akaashi teases with his now renewed courage, and it’s all it takes for Osamu’s pupils to expand, eating up grey, with burning hunger.

“Can I undress you?”

“It’ll be better if I’m naked, yes.”

Osamu laughs softly, shaking his head from left to right in disbelief, but he moves towards him and that’s all it takes for his scent to enter his system, along with _alpha pheromones_. 

And with that, Akaashi does realize that _yes, it’s been a long time._

He holds his gaze for a second before Osamu’s eyes fall back on his shirt, and starts unbuttoning it slowly, _too slowly_. 

With the alpha’s body so _close_ to his own, his own system is now burning up, and a thin coat of sweat is forming on his skin. When enough buttons are open, he obediently raises his arms, allowing Osamu to take his shirt off, revealing his pale skin. But the other man doesn’t waste any time there: he starts unbuckling his belt, pulling him closer to him, until he’s laying on the bed, legs spread around his thighs.

Akaashi tenses.

“I-” _There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,_ he tells himself. _It’s only natural,_ he tries to remind himself but there’s still so much shame going around all of this- all of this-

“Do you want me to slow down?”

“It’s not my first time.”

His belt is now open, but Osamu stops, to take a long look at him. 

“It’s okay if it is.”

“I’ve had sex before, just-”

“Do you want me to slow down?”

“No!”

And Akaashi can immediately feel red rising on his cheeks, from the sudden answer, one he had no control over. His body fucking hurts now. He just needs something to ease the pain, something to _fill him- and this_ _fucking_ sucks. 

_If only this had happened outside of his heat, he could have enjoyed it much more-_ (What the hell?)

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Osamu says, and he has the audacity to plant a _fucking kiss on his now naked hipbone_. His lips are soft and warm and Akaashi can’t help but moan, “I won’t judge, I swear.”

And Akaashi believes him, wants to believe this smooth, gentle voice; why would he lie? (He’s an alpha, he just wants some good sex) (Right?) (He’s not lying, he won’t make fun of him, right?) (Right?) 

“Akaashi?”

And his body is burning, burning, and his soul feels like it’s too big for his body, his back is arching and his limbs all feel sore, and he doesn’t even want to start acknowledging the burning heat forming below his stomach, the disgusting wetness between his legs. He hates it, _hates this._ It’s so embarrassing, can still hear the laughs of a faceless alpha ringing in his ears and-

“Akaashi.”

“Sorry,” comes the automatic answer and Akaashi simply sits up, groaning at the pain that shoots down his back. He quickly takes off his pants, leaving him in only his underwear, and they’re equals now. At least in nakedness. “I was just- thinking about the case I’m working on and- yeah,” he lies.

“Can I kiss you?”

Akaashi cannot hold back a whimper when Osamu simply moves closer to him, his hand coming up to gently cup his cheek and _it’s so big,_ and he just can’t help but think about these fingers inside of him and _oh god his body really is brainless._

Nodding slowly, he only has to wait for a few instants before seeing Osamu smile reassuringly. And leans in. He’s kneeling between his legs, and he cups his entire face with both of his hands, and they’re so soft, so strong, so _big_. Akaashi moans even before their lips meet (it’s the _heat_ , he tells himself). 

A kiss is all it takes for his mind to come back to his body, like it’s sucked back in his bare bones. It’s all it takes for him to really feel the need, the want, the hunger, to really feel how his limbs feel like they’re too long, how his back feels like it’s burning. 

Suddenly, he realizes with grim horror that he put grey boxer shorts, making him freeze for a second, thinking about the clear fabric now black from the wetness coming from behind him, from his already hard and shamelessly leaking cock. 

_There’s nothing to be embarrassed about_ , he tells himself as his heart starts clenching painfully in his chest. It’s natural, every omega in heat produces slick that makes penetration easier. It’s _natural_ , it’s natural, but harsh laughs and mocking voices and things like ‘ _you’re so wet for me, such a good bitch in heat'_ resonate in his mind and-

And Osamu’s mouth suddenly leaves his lips to land between his legs and his mind only has a few seconds to process before he can feel something warm and _wet_ against him, through the fabric, despite the disgusting slick. 

Worse than that, Osamu even has the audacity to _moan_ when his hands close behind each of Akaashi’s thighs to make them spread further, allowing him to bury his face _right there_ , and it doesn’t matter if his boxers are still on, it doesn’t matter if there’s cotton between his sinful tongue and _him_ , _there_ , _that cursed place_.

It doesn’t matter because Akaashi moans anyway, it doesn't matter because he’s not thinking straight anymore. Not because of heat pheromones, but because it’s just _too much_ for him to process. His head falls back on the pillows behind him, and he mechanically starts biting his wrist to muffle the sounds he's making.

He yelps when he feels Osamu’s mouth biting the tender meat of his ass cheek, then something wet and hot against his asshole. He blinks at him as he starts sucking on the fabric of his underwear- _what the hell?_

“Can I take it off?”

“Oh my god, _yes_.”

So, yeah, Akaashi is too far gone to control his answer. Too far gone to be polite, or to show any sign of dignity. But that’s fine because Osamu definitely won’t judge him. Why would he? (Because he’s an alpha) (But alphas don’t eat asses) (Therefore, he won't judge him.) (Right?)

His boxer shorts fly to the other side of the room, and he doesn’t even register Osamu’s own underwear joining them before he can feel the alpha’s dick pressing against his own. At the same time, Akaashi comes back up in a split second, kisses the other man's collarbones, drifting towards his shoulders, before he comes back to his mouth and _he can taste himself there, what the fuck, he can taste himself on someone else's lips, and this someone is an alpha, and what the hell is happening, and why is this so hot?_

But also, his dick is really close to a much bigger one (alphas do have monstrous dicks after all), and his body totally betrays him when he starts grinding against said bigger dick, moaning from the contact, the small pressure.

So, yeah, that’s nice. _That’s definitely nice_. 

And kissing Osamu is nice too.

His lips are softer than his, and he doesn’t force his tongue inside his mouth, which is very much appreciated. 

They both groan at one particularly hard thrust, one that makes their dicks touch for a slightly longer time, and in a slightly stronger way. Sincerely, Akaashi would be gone with just that in any normal circumstances, but the need to be filled, the knowledge he’ll be filled with _this exact same cock right here,_ keeps him from coming then and there. 

When they somehow stop grinding against each other like teenagers, stop kissing each other like they’re the only air they can breathe, Akaashi takes a look at the alpha still kneeling between his legs.

 _One real look_.

His pupils are now blown wide and his cheeks are pink, his hair now messy, his lips slightly parted, and _oh_ Akaashi realizes he actually left a red mark on Osamu’s shoulder already. _Nice_. He likes the sight of his claim over that skin-

Osamu grins as Akaashi’s eyes finally land on his dick, but doesn’t give him any second to comment on it, because he’s already dropping back between his thighs. 

He smoothly puts a pillow behind the omega’s smaller back to help him raise his hips and- _oh god his tongue is back there_. 

With that, Akaashi’s mind just stops working. 

Osamu's mouth is hotter, and wetter and hungrier now that he's touching him, _really_ touching him. He can feel him right there, lapping at his slick, and the only thing Akaashi can do is moan from it, because it’s filthy but _so so good,_ and he swears he’ll never let anyone fuck him if they refuse to eat him out beforehand after this.

He hesitates for a second, but instincts are stronger than anything when it comes to sex, so he reaches out for Osamu's dark hair, fingers tangling into the black strands, tugging tentatively at them. When the alpha doesn't react, he pulls a bit harder trying to make him touch him _closer_ , to lick him _better._

And Osamu seems to understand because, his tongue is now pressing slightly inside him, and it's soft, and it touches him _inside_ and what if he tugs harder-

_Whatthehellwhatthehellwhatthehellwhatthehellwhatthehellwhatthehellwhatthe-_

It might not fill him like Osamu’s dick would, but it’s still good, it still makes him moan loudly inside his wrist, still makes his back arch, his hips pushing up violently to get _more._

He feels like he could cry from both pleasure and the terrible _need for something bigger,_ something that would finally stretch him, and he tugs at the strands of hair again; Osamu's tongue just can’t get far enough inside him.

That’s the moment Osamu chooses to press one finger inside him, and if Akaashi's brain successfully managed to not black out before, he definitely does now. 

A long whimper escapes the barrier of his lips when a second finger quickly joins the first one, and Osamu starts moving them, in and out, and the sound it makes is just _shameful_. But for once, Akaashi doesn’t care, because Osamu's tongue is still doing wonders down there, and his mind can only wish to be powerful enough to be able to _think_ when _this_ is happening.

Osamu’s fingers are bigger than his and yet it doesn’t feel like it's enough, but it’s good, but it’s not enough, but good, and he’s touching his dick with his free hand now and in the next second, a third finger enters him. And with that, Akaashi’s gone, completely gone.

His first orgasm hits him like a trainwreck, his entire body shaking before he can even register what’s happening.

“Mmmmh,” Osamu hums, gently biting the inside of his thigh, not even trying to prevent Akaashi’s hips from moving as he shakes, white liquid landing on his stomach.

They both stop moving for a second, and Akaashi doesn’t say anything, still riding out his high, eyes glassy and shoulders tense.

The next time one of them moves, it's Osamu, who takes the pillow from behind his hips, throwing it carelessly on the floor. He sits up and takes something from the nightstand, but Akaashi doesn’t have the strength to look at what he's doing, simply trusting the alpha, until said alpha comes back to kneel between his legs. 

A packaged condom falls next to his head and he can only laugh at the sight. So it's _finally_ happening. And yet he's too far gone into a post-coital haze to even process the information. 

But he has to come back to himself for a minute because Osamu comes back to hover over him with an intense and somehow serious stare. 

“Do you want to put the collar on yourself or do you want me to do it?”

_The colla-?_

_Oh. Yeah. Right._

_Avoid to leave a bite mark._

“You can put it on.”

Osamu nods and methodically opens the collar before passing it behind Akaashi’s neck, his fingers brushing his nape, making the omega shiver. He works quickly, with the ease that comes with habit.

A small _click_ and the collar is safely closed around his neck, heavy and warm, protecting the large brown stain next to his right jugular.

“Is it too tight?”

“No it’s-” _hot_ “fine.”

“Okay.”

Osamu’s hand pulls at the collar one time to check if it’s fastened tightly enough, and finally, he reaches for the condom next to Akaashi’s head, making the smaller man shiver from head to toe with anticipation.

“Still okay with it?”

“I need your knot.”

He’s heard the sentence countless times in porn videos, whispered, whimpered, like a plea-

His request is neutral at best, almost cold and indifferent.

“Right.”

He closes his eyes for a second when he feels Osamu’s dick touching his again; and when he opens them slowly, moaning from the drag against his cock, from the wet kisses Osamu leaves on his collarbones, his shoulders. He starts biting his skin as Akaashi starts grinding against him. He hears him groan right next to his ear at the moment he feels Akaashi’s own length start to grow hard again. 

Laying on his back, he's exposed, and vulnerable. And yet, he doesn’t give shit- because Osamu’s here to protect him.

Two fingers in his ass and a kiss on his mouth later, he finally, _finally_ feels Osamu’s dick against his drenched hole, and he doesn’t try to muffle his moan when he feels him push in, slowly, agonizingly slowly, to slide inside him. 

After a few seconds, Osamu's dick is sitting inside him, heavy and thick between his ass cheeks, stretching him perfectly and _thank god, because it’s been so long, and he_ **_needs. this. so. bad._ **

“Oh thank god,” he lets out in one small breath. Osamu’s resting on his elbows and Akaashi definitely doesn't hold back his moans when he starts moving in and out of him with smooth, sharp movements.

“So _you_ can speak, but I can’t,” Osamu jokes, but he’s in no state to make fun of him. Akaashi knows it, because he stays silent and only raises judgemental eyebrows.

The alpha laughs at the sight, but nonetheless obeys all the same, and _holy hell, did he just give an order to an alpha?_ He doesn't dwell on the thought because he instinctively raises his hips, trying to make Osamu touch him in the _right way._ It only takes a few additional thrusts before Akaashi arches his back with a long moan, throwing his head behind as he presents his (thankfully covered) throat, body tensing, toes curling.

Osamu seems to understand what’s happening because he doesn’t miss his prostate even once after that, ramming right onto it and Akaashi's moans are as loud as they can get. He doesn’t try to muffle his voice behind his fist anymore, too focused on trying to meet Osamu’s thrusts with his own movements, trying to get some pressure on his neglected cock too.

“Please tell me you’re close,” Osamu whispers next to his ear after a few minutes, his breath definitely caught in his throat, and it takes everything in Akaashi to answer.

“Give me your knot then,” he finally says back between two groans.

The only answer he gets is a sharp trust that rips a new moan out of his throat. 

When Osamu’s hand slide down to touch his dick unexpectedly, his fist tightening around his shaft, following the same rhythm as his hips, Akaashi's moans become louder and his hips keep rolling to meet Osamu’s erratic thrusts. It suddenly occurs to him that his whines are nothing but discreet- His mouth ends up on the alpha’s wrist that’s sitting next to his head and when he bites into it to muffle his voice, Osamu probably takes it as a signal to start chasing his own ecstasy. He starts moving faster, and his thrusts become sharper, less controlled. Soon, he becomes messier both with his dick and his hand, and he whispers a small _Akaashi_ right before he _feels_ it expand inside of him- _finally-_ and oh _fuckfuckfuck. it. is. goddamn. big._

It’s been a while since he took a _real_ knot. More than five years have passed since he last felt the stretch of an alpha’s knot inside him during a heat, and maybe he didn’t miss the feeling _per se,_ but he did miss the orgasm that comes with it, the release that follows, because nothing compares to this.

Maybe he came a few moments ago, maybe he came during all these heats that happened since the last time he hooked up with an alpha, but it definitely feels like he hasn’t experienced a real orgasm in years.

His voice breaks when he comes, and there’s no sound escaping his throat as his body tenses up and starts to shake. He doesn’t even hear Osamu’s moans anymore, doesn’t register the white pearls that are now covering his chest. The only thing he can think of, is how _full_ he feels, how _stretched_ he finally feels and _gods did he miss this._

With one last twitch of his dick, Akaashi closes his eyes, and he lets his entire body relax, his limbs going limp all at once, as Osamu rides the last waves of his own pleasure.

─✷─

_Lipstick-Covered Water Bottle Clearly Got Some Action Last Night_

by **Miya Osamu**

─✷─

It’s six p.m. when Osamu slips inside his own apartment, grimacing as he realises Atsumu is still gone. His limbs are still sore after a second slower round with Akaashi in the morning and a rushed third time just before he had to leave to actually get work done. _(‘But it’s six p.m.’ ‘I already lost one night and half a day, Miya-san. But thank you very much for this, it was- very pleasant.’)_

He doesn’t waste another minute before throwing his aching body inside the bathroom to take a well-deserved shower. His thighs hurt, his right arm hurts even though he used to play volleyball back in high school. That’s how much he used it during the past hours. 

When he exits the shower, the light inside his twin’s room is on, and that’s all it takes for him to muster the courage he needs to _confess._

He needs to talk about this, needs to process this, and it’s always easier with Atsumu listening. So, he quickly dries his hair with a towel, fails miserably at it, and knocks on the door, black hair still wet on top of his head. 

Not waiting for an answer that he's not gonna get anyway, he opens the door and enters, expecting to see Atsumu sitting at his desk, but _oh well._

“'SAMU!”

Atsumu is _indeed_ in a sitting position.

“Oh god.”

But it’s on Sakusa Kiyoomi’s face.

“Good evening, Kiyoomi,” Osamu grins. He closes the door before coming to sit crossed legged right on the floor, facing the opposite wall to avoid looking too closely at the two mating alphas, “'Tsumu,” Osamu starts.

“Go away.”

“No, I need to talk.” 

They both know he wouldn’t use his _I need to talk_ ticket for something unimportant, so Atsumu sighs, and he can hear them moving hurriedly before his brother’s annoying voice rings in his ears once again.

“Make it quick.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sakusa curses, but he doesn’t protest. 

The three of them have known each other since high school (not that it makes this less awkward, it really doesn’t), so the former ace is probably used to the twins’ idiotic behaviours by now. Somehow he even ended up falling for the dumbest one of them so, _yeah._ It doesn’t come as a surprise when he doesn't object as Osamu starts speaking, still looking at the wall, with his back turned away from the two naked men.

“I just had sex,” Osamu announces.

“Me too.”

“Oh my god,” Sakusa groans and Osamu doesn’t have to see him to know he’s face-palming hard.

“'Tsumu.”

“What?”

“I almost came from an omega tugging at my hair while I was eating his ass.”

A second of silence.

“Okay.”

“I’m an _alpha_.”

“Yeah, I know.”

"I shouldn’t like it when an omega orders me around.”

"I thought it was clear after the Semi debacle that you're not really the one in control."

"I don't have control over my _life,_ but I'm- I- In bed I'm-"

"I let Sakusa manhandle me all the time."

Sakusa groans behind him, but none of the twins bothers acknowledging the sound.

"He's an alpha, of course one of you would have to take control at some point!"

"Yeah but I'd let an omega take control over me if they wanted to."

"But-"

"'Samu. You ate his ass, he was so happy he pulled at your hair, which made you happy. It's not a big deal.”

"It is to me."

" _Fragile masculinity_ ,” Sakusa sighs.

“I’m not like you, I don’t really want to date an alpha.”

"We are not dating,” both alphas say at the same time.

"Sure."

"Besides, it doesn't matter if he's an alpha or an omega or a beta. You like whatever rocks your boat and that's it. It doesn't have anything to do with being an alpha."

"For once, I agree with Atsumu," Sakusa adds.

“It’s not like I’m going to see him again anyway.”

Akaashi only needed his help this one time because of _the deadline_. It’s very unlikely that he’ll get to meet him again.

Which is fine, really. 

Maybe he’ll have to ask his next partner to order him around. Just to check.

_Oh god._

“Is that it?”

“You’re sure there’s nothing wrong with me?” Osamu asks with a dramatic sigh.

“We’re sure.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“Can you leave?”

“Oh. Yeah.” 

Osamu finally stands up, turns on his heels to take a long, judgemental look at the two naked men, holds Sakusa’s gaze for at least five seconds before he finally leaves the room, not even closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> i could have put all the dirty talk and messy stuff in there already, but i have decided against it bc we're going to go slowwwwww here okay??????? okay.  
> i will update next week probably. see you then!!  
> <3


	3. Sick Garlic Clove On Bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smoke alarm is konoha, garlic clove is osamu, man is akaashi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gooooooood evening,
> 
> i am happy to come back with chapter 3.  
> this gets a bit more /complicated/ in terms of world building so please tell me if you do not understand anything in my legal babbling. and in case your a lawyer who love the crim/fam sector, im sorry i probably butchered this whole thing bc i dropped out of crim/fam law after my second year of law school sorry. this is based on my foggy memories.
> 
> \- KLAUDIA, i wasnt planning on adding this ship to the fic and then... i thought: why not :)
> 
> tw: v brief mention of unwanted pregnancy  
> abuse against omegas  
> not eating for days bc of heat.

**CHAPTER 3.**

─✷─

_Smoke Alarm Sick Of Being Yelled At For Doing Its Job_

by **Akaashi Keiji**

─✷─

_january 2020_

Akaashi almost throws himself on his best friend’s couch. _Almost._ Because he can still hear the voice of his mother reprimanding him for acting like a child back when he was still actually a _child._ And so, he simply sits against the cushions with a quiet groan. He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his index finger. His body is still sore from the terrible, terrible weeks that just passed.

His eyes land on Konoha's iPad left on the table, where he can see Oikawa’s smiling face along with the title:

[ _What the Hisamoto case taught us._ ]

That case didn’t teach a lot of things to Akaashi legally speaking, but it definitely taught him a lot about his own body and his own limits. On top of that, he earned a nice bonus for winning the case.

Konoha is brewing coffee in the kitchen, and he hasn't heard anyone else moving in the flat. 

“Where’s Aran?” he asks, loud enough for the other man to hear.

“He’s staying at his parents’ for New Year's, so he’s still in the countryside. Told me he's got some friends to meet there before he comes back.”

“Didn’t you want to go there too?”

“Nah, I’m not a big fan of his parents, and they surely are not big fans of me, so we just avoid each other as much as possible.”

The beta finally comes back from the kitchen and puts two large mugs of coffee on the table, taking a quick look at Akaashi. He knows the bags under his eyes are darker, deeper than usual, even for an awful month like December. 

And of course, Konoha would notice this.

“How was your last heat?” he asks innocently.

After years of knowing each other, Konoha doesn’t even have to keep track of his friend’s heats anymore, knows that he triggers them in July and December, and that’s it.

“ _Wonderful_ ,” Akaashi says, not without biting irony. 

“You spent it at your parents’?”

“No, thank gods. It started after I got back from Tokyo, so I spent it at my flat.”

Konoha nods solemnly, and Akaashi is grateful for the silence that weaves between them for a few seconds. For once, his friend doesn’t even try to reprimand him for spending his heat alone instead of finding some random alpha. After a bit less than ten years of friendship, he seems to finally get it.

“That painful, uh?”

“More than usual, yeah,” Akaashi admits with a deep sigh.

There’s no point in denying it, his eyes are bloodshot and his skin awfully pale. He probably lost weight too, due to his inability to cook food when his heat hits.

Konoha drinks his coffee slowly, before silently putting his mug back on the table in a _cling._ He finally looks at his best friend with a serious expression on his face. 

“Did you go into heat between your usual heats again?”

Akaashi almost freezes on the spot, thankfully manages to take his mug with the smooth movements of someone who is used to lying to his best friend while he looks him in the eyes. But maybe he’s so used to it that said 'best friend' now knows how to read even the smallest hesitation in his breathing. Yeah, Konoha’s definitely not buying it.

“You _did._ ”

Ignoring him will make him just stop asking questions, right?

Yeah.

So, Akaashi slowly sips his coffee, hiding most of his face behind the white porcelain. He remains silent, knows everything he says can and will be used against him. When he lowers his mug, slowly, unhurriedly, to check if Konoha miraculously changed his mind, his best friend is still glaring at him with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Unreadable, maybe, but definitely not pleasant to look at.

_“What?”_

“You know _what!_ ”

“I went into heat in October just before the _Hisamoto_ case. I took care of it.”

“Do you mean you masturbated for days and then managed to carry your exhausted body back to your office to help your boss win the case? Congrats by the way.”

He’s tempted to say yes, just so Konoha finally changes the subject.

But the alarming thing is, he still hasn’t talked about his whole encounter with the former Inarizaki wing-spiker. And he kind of wants to. And Konoha definitely is eyeing the small cactus sitting on his coffee table in its yellow pot. Akaashi can still remember the last time they discussed his heats, can still remember his best friend throwing the closest small object in his reach at him to make him stop saying nonsense (it was only a dice, but it still hurt).

Maybe telling the truth wouldn't be that bad, for once. It at least would save him from getting hit with a succulent.

“No,” he finally says.

Green eyes go from the cactus to his face, and they’re _wide._

“Did you actually rest _and_ managed to win that hellish case?”

“ _Oikawa_ won the case. I barely helped-” Akaashi tries to correct him.

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

“No. I did not rest,” Konoha's eyes wander back on the cactus, so he quickly adds, “but I did not masturbate either.”

His heart is now pounding in his chest; _why is he so nervous about this?_ He fucking had sex, no big deal. Most adults do. Especially omegas in heat. That’s what they’re supposed to do. That's what Konoha wants him to do.

“Did you just ignore it? Oh my god, Keiji, I swear if you kept working while going through a heat-”

“I’m not a superhuman, Akinori, even _I_ can’t do that. No, I- Ihadsexwithanalpha.”

Konoha blinks once, twice, looks at his mug, at the cactus, and finally at Akaashi. 

“Excuse me?”

“I haaaad seeeeeex withanalpha.”

Konoha is still staring very hard at the cactus.

He had sex with an alpha. It’s _good news!  
_

_Right?_

But Konoha’s staring at the cactus like it’s a volleyball that he definitely wants to spike right in Akaashi’s face. But why? 

He’s been waiting for _years_ for him to announce that he finally got laid _with an alpha, and he’s looking at that cactus!_

“You had sex with an alpha,” Konoha repeats slowly, just to make sure.

“I did?”

“In _october._ ”

“In mid-october.”

Eyes finally leave the cactus to land right on his face, and maybe the cactus was a better alternative after all.

“Please, Keiji, could you remind me what day is it today?”

Akaashi doesn’t even have to look at his phone. 

“January, third.”

Eyes do not leave his face, don’t go back to the cactus, and maybe his whole face is the volleyball that’s going to be spiked. 

“And you didn’t _TELL ME_?”

Oh. Oh! 

“Oh.”

“Yeah _Oh!_ ” Konoha’s green irises do a 360° tour before he sighs loudly, and Akaashi wonders if he’s going to throw his arms in the air from the outrage.

“So, how was it?” with just that, it's here, it’s back, his stupid grin that screams _chaos_. But that’s still better than Furious-I-Will-Throw-A-Cactus-At-Your-Face Konoha.

“It was good.” 

“You can’t just say that. Give me details here Keiji, it’s been what- Four years?”

“I don’t really have time for relationships.”

“I know, I know. So. Give me details. How was he? Tall? All alpha and-?”

Oh what he’d give to kill Konoha Akinori and his fucking insatiable hunger for juicy gossips. 

“He was nice actually.” 

Maybe too nice. 

And maybe Akaashi did consider contacting Osamu again just to see if he’s really that nice, if they could maybe get along as friends. But there are some rules in the heat-buddy system about not getting feelings involved. Not that it’s _forbidden,_ but most people aren’t looking for a relationship on this app. Not that _he_ would ever consider getting a boyfriend. 

_Not in this economy_. 

Tearing Akaashi away from his reverie, Konoha clears his throat and his eyes are now serious, missing the glint that usually sparks in them when he’s about to get some useless but nonetheless exciting news.

“What?”

“Was your last heat any different from the usual ones?”

“You know it’s not the first time I have sex, right?” 

Why is everyone acting like he just had sex for the first time? It’s just been a long time since his last alpha, but he’s not actually a _virgin,_ and he still gets some action. Sometimes. When he has the time.

“Yeah, but it’s been four years since your last knot.” 

Akaashi rolls his eyes, hiding the slight blush that rises on his cheeks with faked annoyance. It’s the way Konoha can talk about these things with medical ease that always makes him stiffen with embarrassment. 

“Six, actually.”

Eyes immediately land on the cactus again, and this time, Akaashi is really scared for his face. The fact that Konoha is a pharmacist will probably come as an advantage once his face is scratched by the evil succulent, though. 

But in the end, Konoha only sighs in defeat.

“You should book an appointment with Sugawara soon.”

Just thinking about Sugawara and his stupid smirk that says _I know your suppressants are fucking you up_ , makes Akaashi want to throw the cactus at the wall. 

_Poor cactus._

But he knows Konoha is not completely wrong, and he should definitely try to discuss these unexpected heats with his doctor. 

“Listen, I’m no omega, so I’m not going to tell you how to act. But what I definitely know is that an omega isn’t supposed to go through six years of treatment without getting knotted. The first time after this is bound to have consequences.”

“I’ll deal with them when they come.” 

Now they’re both studying the situation, trying to figure out who’s the closest one to the cactus. But Konoha finally gives up, simply throws his arms in the air in defeat. 

“Talk to Sugawara about it.”

“I will.”

Surprisingly, Konoha does finally drop the subject and starts talking about his relationship with Aran, bringing up how weird it is to have lunch with both him and Bokuto at the same time. Aran joined Bokuto’s volleyball team at the same time Akaashi started working with Oikawa, and Konoha had instantly decided he would date that new MSBY wing-spiker.

But when Aran actually showed some interest in the beta, things got complicated. 

Nothing Akaashi didn't see coming since he’s been the unfortunate witness of his best friend’s _slow_ pace regarding relationships for years now. 

But one year later, they are now happily dating, travelling every other week to meet at Konoha's in Kōbe or in Higashiōsaka where Aran lives.

“You should come with me at some point, to see Bokuto!”

“I meet with Bokuto often enough.”

Konoha tilts his head to the left, and Akaashi almost expects him to look at the cactus again. But he seems genuinely surprised this time.

“We call each other every two weeks. But it’s true that it’s been a while since I’ve last _seen_ him.”

“Next time you get a free week-end, we’re going there then!”

“I guess, the Center can survive without me for a day.”

He’ll just have to work half as much the week before, in addition to his work at the law firm. Totally doable. 

But it’s Bokuto, and maybe seeing his other best friend is exactly what he needs at the moment. 

Because the question Konoha asked him before is still haunting his mind when he goes back to his cold empty flat a few hours later. 

_Was your last heat different from the usual ones?_

It was painful, sure, but his last bearable heat happened five years ago back when he had finally caved in, ending up in a steamy nightclub, during his first year of law school. Many alphas had looked at him with hunger in their eyes, making that one time both the best and the worst heat of his life. 

The best, as the feeling of being stretched by a knot during a heat will never be topped. 

The worst because he can still barely remember anything from that heat, too drunk, too high on hormones to even care who that first alpha even was. To this day, his only memories are the filthy words whispered in his ear, as he had submitted under faceless alpha, faceless alphas. He can’t remember clearly, but he’s pretty sure there had been at least three of them, with broad shoulders, COLGATE smiles and woody scent- _t_ _ypical_ alphas; the thing he remembers though, are the biting marks on his throat, and the withdrawing symptoms that came after.

Was his last heat different from the ones he’s been having for the past years? Maybe. Maybe he did suffer a bit more, maybe it did last a day longer than usual. Maybe his brain was more focused on one particular voice, one particular silhouette in his hazy fantasies. 

Did he think of an alpha’s dick? Sure. Nothing new here. 

Was it Osamu’s? Maybe. But it’s not like he was consciously fantasizing about Osamu either, you know? It was more like _a random alpha_ with Osamu’s face, voice and dick. Nothing worth worrying for. 

But Akaashi is not stupid. The small month between his first knot in years and his natural heat didn’t give a chance for his hormones to change anything in his body. The worst has yet to come.

(Read: next heat will be a _fucking nightmare_ ) 

But maybe Bokuto will help, with his signature joyful detachment, maybe he’ll even find the right words to calm him down. He somehow always does.

_Anyway._

He’ll deal with that heat when it comes.

For now, he still has six months of freedom to enjoy and a new case to work on for Oikawa.

─✷─

_april 2020_

Winter turns into spring, but his Saturdays are as busy as always, between his work at the Center for Omegas in Need, and Konoha’s need to _have fun_ , he always finds himself running around everywhere on the weekends.

But this season is surprisingly peaceful at the law firm, allowing him to spend more time on his files at the Center.

He abandoned his usual suit in favour of a large hoodie and tight pants, a more casual look that should be less frightening to the omegas seeking help.

One disposable cup full of coffee in his left hand, his phone in the other, he opens the thin door of the waiting room. 

“Good afternoon,” Akaashi says thoughtlessly with the gentlest smile he can muster after his very long and exhausting day.

“Good afternoon, Akaashi,” a man with grey and black hair nods in his direction, before he stands up along with his lover, a man with light brown hair and a more closed off expression.

The lawyer shakes their hands and guides them to his office. The room is way less luxurious than his open space at the law firm, but it’s good enough. He’s glad he even has an office for himself. All of them aren't that lucky. But he’s been volunteering here since his third year of law school, so he’s got some privileges. 

He closes the door behind them and invites the pair to sit on the plastic chairs.

“So, how did the procedure go?”

The grey-haired man, Semi Eita, starts speaking, his voice calm and neutral, professional even weirdly detached. His partner, Shirabu Kenjiro, nods next to him, sometimes adding details to the overall story his partner narrates about their encounter with the Hyōgo Office for Child Services

Akaashi hums as they speak, quickly taking notes on a small notebook. 

“Then the next guy came and said it wouldn’t be possible to file an adoption application since we’re both omegas.”

Silence

Pause. 

Akaashi’s pen stops on the paper before he raises his chin to take a look at the two men. 

His work mainly consists of legal assistance. But most of his 'clients' at the Center are distressed omegas, who need more than just objective legal answers: they need hope. 

And Akaashi might not be the most optimistic person out there (how could he be, when he’s confronted with these unfair cases every week?) but he knows a small smile can be just what one needs to survive a day.

So, he smiles and tries to meet their eyes. Shirabu stares at him, but Semi is still looking pointedly at the desk. 

“We didn’t know if it was true, so we left.”

“It’s complicated,” Akaashi sighs, and it’s Semi’s turn to finally look at him, “Omega couples enjoy very little rights, as you know.” 

They both nod, in the state of the current legal landscape, any couple, even betas, can adopt children. There is only one exception, for omega couples, who are seen as unfit to raise children on their own, with no alpha or beta to take care of the kid. They'd make the child too weak, too fragile, they say.

Fights have been fought, but there is still a depressing long way to go.

“But, there’s a legal vacuum that makes it possible for omega couples to adopt a child. It is however not an easy ride.”

Both omegas look at each other and nod in one same movement.

“We’re ready to do whatever it takes.”

“It’s more than that,” Akaashi starts, “there are two possibilities. Since 2018, the country recognizes _full_ adoption in addition to the traditional _simple_ adoption. With full adoptions, the child will not be legally tied to their biological parents. Even if their alpha parent comes to claim them as their own, it won’t be possible.”

“Okay.”

“However, omega couples will never be allowed to file a complete _full_ adoption application. The authorities want to make it possible for the alpha or beta parent to come and claim the child if that's possible. But you can file a _simple_ adoption application. That means the blood ties between the child and their biological parents will not be severed, meaning the _alpha_ or _beta_ parent of that child, will have the right to get custody if they want to. Courts usually grant them shared custody at least. I've heard stories of the omega couple losing the child completely."

"So we will have to live in fear that the alpha or beta parent will come to take back our child."

"Well, it's always a possibility. It doesn't often happen, but when it does, omega couples usually lose."

"And the other possibility?" Shirabu finally asks eyes sadly full of hope.

"Well, since omega males cannot give birth, it is possible for them to file the _full_ adoption application as a single parent. Child Care sometimes agrees to let you adopt, in the hope that you will meet an alpha later in your life, to raise this kid like they want you to.”

“But if we adopt a kid as a single omega-”

“That’s the thing. If anything happens to the legal parent, the one who did not file the adoption application will have no right over the child, he will never be recognized as their other legal parent.” 

“Oh.”

"But the alpha or beta parent will never have the right to come and claim the child back."

Both of their faces grow darker; it’s obvious it takes a lot for them not to express any emotion in front of him. So, he politely looks away, to give them the time to let the realization sink in.

He’s seen many of them, desperate omega couples, or omegas fleeing abusive alphas, others desperately trying to regain custody of their child. He's seen gruesome stories of unwanted mating bites, unwanted children, unwanted marriages. 

And when despair paints the face of those sitting in front of him, Akaashi can’t help but feel infinite sorrow for all these individuals who never chose to be of the _weaker ones._

“It is a tough decision. I suggest you discuss this between the two of you. This is going to be a long adventure if you want to give it a try. Most parents start the procedure when they’re in their mid-twenties and end up with a child in their thirties,” he warns them. 

The two omegas have been together for two years now. And he doesn’t know if their bond is strong enough to hold through that storm. It's not something someone outside their bond can know anyway.

“I promise you that I will stand with you all along if you ever decide to go for it.”

They both nod, minds obviously elsewhere.

“If it can help you feel any better, I will personally help you if you decide to fight for this right to raise a child in a loving home. You deserve this right just as much as any other couple. You won’t be alone in this, but it will be a tough fight.”

Semi and Shirabu look at each other for a second, “we will discuss this privately but we'll come back to you with our decision.”

“You have my number. Text me if you have any questions. I am currently helping another couple who is going through the full adoption procedure, if you’d like to discuss this with other people in this situation.”

“Thank you very much.” 

Semi smiles sadly in his direction and Akaashi might shake his hand for a little bit longer than strictly necessary after that. He smiles at Shirabu who seems more emotional than he’s ever seen him.

“Don’t lose hope. I know it’s hard, but things are changing and maybe in a few years...”

They smile weakly before taking their leave, and Akaashi sighs as he closes the door behind them. 

In days like this, he's grateful for Konoha and his small silly parties.

“Tough day?” Kuroo asks just when he’s about to leave the centre to go to Konoha’s party. 

The former Nekoma captain was the one who introduced him to the Center, after joining himself during his med school years. He grins at him, a pen dancing around his fingers.

“Yeah, an omega couple who wasn't allowed to file the adoption application.”

“That’s illegal, right?”

“They won’t get in anyway. Even if we go to court, they'll lose. I told them to go through the single parent or the simple adoption path if they want to have a chance.”

“How old are they?”

“Around your age, I believe?”

Kuroo grimaces and goes back to his own file, something medical probably, and for the hundredth time, Akaashi notices that he's glad he didn’t choose the medical path in college. As much as he thinks it’s his duty to help others, he knows he doesn’t have what it takes to keep healing hurt and abused omegas every day in the same way Kuroo does.

“I don’t think you should go to Konoha’s party tonight,” Kuroo casually adds, as he closes his file, putting it on the reception desk, planting his piercing eyes on Akaashi’s surprised face, “I mean, you do you, but I can smell your heat coming.”

_What the fuck._

─✷─

_Garlic Clove Concerned About Being Deployed Into Water Glass With No Real Exit Strategy_

by **Miya Osamu**

─✷─

Winter turns into spring and Osamu doesn’t hear from Akaashi again after their night at the hotel together. 

It doesn’t come off as a surprise at all. He's been expecting the silence, he was prepared for it.

But when he gets a notification from the heat-buddy app, a request from another omega in his area, he still politely declines, doesn’t really know why. 

Papers are graded, water is drunk, food is eaten. He could have accepted.

He usually spends his days between teaching, working on his PhD dissertation and helping Atsumu with his political speeches. His weekends are usually free, so when the request comes up he does not have any other excuse that _I’m not interested_. Which is a good excuse, when it’s just that: a lack of interest. 

Deep down, though, he knows it’s more than that, knows that it’s because _it won’t be as good_. 

He shrugs the thought away and ignores the answer the omega sends his way, going back to his laptop. 

Denial is a good solution.

It's pretty clear that Akaashi was looking for a one time thing, a one heat stand that would never happen again.

Right?

Ha! _Bitch you thought,_ is the first thing that comes to his mind (and it's Atsumu's voice that speaks, and it's very annoying) when his phone suddenly lights up, a few weeks after their first meeting. The device is laying next to his empty mug of coffee, like last time, but today, Atsumu is out of his room, out of the flat.

Osamu realizes he actually doesn’t know where his brother is, but that’s okay, he’s probably at Sakusa’s for the night, enjoying his weekend there instead of here because he finally understood that Osamu’s sighs were _actually telling something_ (annoyance, self-pity, anger, you pick) and not just a way to make them know he's there.

He finishes typing his sentence on his keyboard, reads one last article before checking his phone because he _really_ needs to finish that article before tomorrow. 

But his heart stops when his eyes land on the notification.

┌──────────────────┐

**Akaashi Keiji**

_Are you free tonight?_

└──────────────────┘

He stares, stares, stares, stares and maybe his phone should blow up from how intensively he’s staring. _He’s dreaming, right?_

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_I should be free in about two hours._

_Unless it’s an emergency._

└──────────────────┘

He’d definitely give up on his paragraph and his dissertation to help Akaashi, should he ask him to come. He doesn’t really want to think about what this says about him and how much he’s willing to sacrifice for a guy he met _once._

┌──────────────────┐

**Akaashi Keiji**

_Two hours is fine._

_I’m not at work and I can’t really go far right now._

_A friend is going to book a hotel for me, I’ll forward you the address when it’s done._

└──────────────────┘

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_Okay, do you need anything?_

└──────────────────┘

┌──────────────────┐

**Akaashi Keiji**

_Same as last time._

└──────────────────┘

_Last time._

So they're both aware that this is more than a one-night stand. Osamu shivers just from thinking about it. _'It'_ being the mess that's lurking in the corner, ready to fall over him at any given moment _._

It would be a lie to say he hasn’t thought about the omega _maybe just a tiny bit too much_ during the last few weeks. It would be a lie to say he hasn’t been hoping for this day to come.

But now that it’s here, _well._

Is it really that much of a good idea?

 _Akaashi needs you_ , comes the immediate answer, _who cares if it’s a good idea? He. Needs. You._

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_Copied. See you in a bit._

└──────────────────┘

Oh, well.

──

His bag is full of food and water bottles, the bottle of lube he always carries with him is in there too. Everything reminds him of the last time they met.

But nothing could have prepared him for the sight he was about to be subjected to. 

Listen, he saw how Akaashi was during his last heat, and expected him to be like that again: dressed and in denial. So when he enters the bedroom, he’s not suspecting what’s waiting for him.

As soon as the door opens, he can tell that there’s something different: this time the room already _smells_ of heat. There’s still this lingering aseptic aftertaste that tingles his nose, informing him that this is an unexpected heat under suppressants again.

He smells Akaashi before he sees him, has to walk down the small corridor, past the bathroom, to finally enter the bedroom. And _oh_.

His bag falls on the floor before he even registers what he’s doing, and he starts walking towards the bed, eyes glued in Akaashi’s dilated pupils.

“You sure— _anh—_ ” and Akaashi apparently needs a second before he can continue because his back arches off the mattress at the same time as he moans, and it’s only when he finally catches his breath that he finishes his sentence, “took your time— _fuck_!”

So, Akaashi is currently naked, completely naked except for the collar Osamu gave him last time because _he kept it_ , _he fucking kept the collar_ and not only has he kept it but he also put it on himself without Osamu even here, _goddamnit._ If he was already horny when entering the room, he’s at the verge of passing out now. 

“Hurry up,” Akaashi orders him hurriedly, as he keeps stroking himself with one hand, cum already splattered on his pale stomach, “what are you waiting for?”

_For my brain to start working again._

Okay.

So.

He’s seen omegas in heat before, he’s seen omegas taking care of themselves before he could arrive. It’s not a _new_ sight here, okay? It would be okay if it was, but _it is not,_ and still, his brain feels like purple goop floating in his skull. 

“Miya.”

Oh _gods_ that voice sends shivers down his spine; it’s smooth, calm and raspy. Not even desperate. And they’re still looking at each other, Akaashi’s eyes not even looking away when his body visibly tenses under his own ministrations. Osamu just stays there, standing in front of the bed, looking at the omega, lips parted, trying not to breathe through his nose. 

_“Miya.”_

His implicit order finally turns into a quiet pleading moan. His eyes finally close for a second, and if Osamu’s eyes had travelled down the naked body of the man in front of him, he would have seen his back arch, his free hand clenching into fists against the sheets, he would have seen the final twitch of his cock, cum flying on his already dirty stomach. 

But his eyes stay on Akaashi’s face, fixated on his parted lips when he silently cries out, on his closed eyes and the blush on his cheeks. 

“Are you going to knot me or not?” Akaashi’s bored voice tears him away from his shocked reverie. 

Yeah. The knot. Otherwise, he'll have to masturbate for days, hoping for a release, never truly attaining it, riding orgasm after orgasm in vain-

Omega needs a- _his_ knot _._

It’s stupid simple.

Something finally snaps inside Osamu's brain when Akaashi moves to take a tissue from the bedside table, and starts cleaning himself. He takes his bag from the floor, throws the condoms and lube next to the pillow and starts undressing, watching the other man look at him. One may genuinely wonder which one of them is the hunter, and which one is the prey. 

(He is the prey.)

Osamu takes the time to leave his coat neatly folded on the chair next to the bed, throws his socks next to his bag, then his shirt, then his pants and he can still feel Akaashi’s burning gaze on him. As soon as his underwear lands on the floor, and he comes near the bed, blue eyes meet grey, and he has to _fight his own brain_ to keep himself from moaning at the sight. _Get a hold on yourself, old man._

"I'm going to ride you," Akaashi announces.

So much effort to stop himself from moaning. One sentence and a quick look at Akaashi’s _smirk,_ and Osamu is gone. Brain? Poof. Nowhere to be found. 

"Oh _fuck_."

Reduced to being a _knot_ for his omega to ride.

(Oh, there’s so many things wrong in this one sentence, but good thing his brain is already deep-fried.)

“You told me last time that if I had to go through heats, I might as well get some fun out of it.”

Yeah, six-month-younger Osamu was a genius.

“Okay,” is the only answer he can mutter when Akaashi gently pushes him down on the pillows. 

_Okay, 'samu, breathe now._

Bad idea.

Heat pheromones immediately enter his nose, his brain, and this time, he can recognize more than just the simple scent of sweat and sex and sperm. There’s the lingering aftertaste of suppressant of course, but there’s citrus and fresh linen that he manages to recognize somewhere in there too.

So, Akaashi smells good. 

Good for him. 

He smells good, but he’s also currently sitting on Osamu's lower abdomen, looking at him and _goddamnit, he kept that collar_. It’s the only thing covering his pale skin and Osamu really wants to tear it away. Not that he ever would. He’s responsible, even in his horniest state.

“You okay with this?”

AND HE’S NICE AND CONSIDERATE TOO. 

Osamu groans and sits up. Oh, he shouldn’t have, because now his dick is _definitely_ touching Akaashi’s ass, and it’s warm and wet, and he suddenly remembers that the omega came at least twice before, making everything more _welcoming._

“Yeah, I’m definitely okay with it.”

_Congrats on sounding so detached, 'samu._

But he ignores the little voice at the back of his mind, and brushes his lips on Akaashi’s tentatively instead, and when the omega starts kissing him back, hungrily, his arms wrapping around his shoulders, scratching the skin there, he can’t help but smile against his opened mouth. 

Akaashi manages to only grind against his definitely hard dick, apparently content with the simple teasing, happy with kissing and touching. That’s fine, but Osamu’s not the type to just _receive._

His hand finds the lube on the other side of the bed, and he squeezes a small amount in his palm before wrapping his hand around Akaashi’s hard cock. 

“You better fuck me soon, though,” Akaashi mumbles against his mouth. 

Osamu doesn’t answer, only tightens his grip over the head of the other man’s length and grinds harder against his ass, his free hand now resting on the small of Akaashi’s back. He never knew that part of the human body could be so hot, but the way it arches after one particularly good thrust, _lord save him._

“I’m getting to it,” Osamu promises and this time, he pours more lube on his fingers. 

“ _Thank god_.”

He’s not sure lube was even a necessity, after two orgasms and with the heat symptoms. Akaashi’s asshole is _already dripping wet._ But Osamu remembers him not wanting any mention of _omega stuff_ , so he keeps his own commentary for himself.

But his thoughts go like this, _‘fuck- he’s so wet, fucking hell. I can’t wait to- ”_

Apparently Akaashi can’t wait either because he’s now pinning both Osamu’s arms on the mattress, and _oh the smirk is back- the SMIRK is back- mayday._

The fingers on his wrists quickly leave, but it doesn’t seem like the omega wants him to move, so he doesn’t- he stays there, pliant and docile. He _obeys_ and he can’t say he doesn’t like it, can’t say he doesn’t appreciate it when Akaashi squeezes lube on his fingers before reaching behind himself. 

He definitely can’t say he doesn’t like it when their gazes lock, and Akaashi starts moving his arm, his hips, and he opens his lips, but stays silent. His eyes are drowning into Osamu’s as he keeps fingering himself; and oh well there’s not much the alpha can do, except noticing how hard he is and how much he actually wants to fuck his blushing _heat-buddy_ right the fuck now.

There's always been some mechanical automatism in the way he treated the omegas he fucked during their heats. Most of his sexual encounters were pleasant, but he always kept some kind of control over what happened. Because he’s an alpha, but also because that’s what his partners usually needed in these situations.

Well, Akaashi seems to know what he likes, and he’s going for it, because he’s now fiddling with the condom package and putting it on Osamu’s cock. His eyebrows furrow, his nose scrunches from how hard he's focusing, _it's adorable,_ and his cheeks are flushed, his lips parted and his hair that, he remembers, used to be messily organized, is just messy now and-

And he comes closers to him, takes Osamu’s face between his hands and kisses him deep and slow, before he finally sinks down on his cock, with no warning at all, ripping a moan out of Osamu’s throat. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck-_

His entire length isn’t even inside yet, but Akaashi is already starting to move, rolling his hips and taking a bit more of him each time he sinks down again. 

“It’s so big, how do you even manage to walk with that thing,” he asks, more to himself probably, than to Osamu. 

Once Akaashi’s completely seated, once his cock sits comfortably inside the omega, wrapped in tight, warm, wet heat, he considers starting to move, the remnants of his brain telling him _he should be making Akaashi feel good,_ not the other way around. But oh, well, Akaashi seems determined to lead the way, because he quickly starts undulating on top of him. His hips are rocking urgently while he lets his hands roam over Osamu’s shoulders. His cock is brushing against his abs and the alpha actually thinks about touching it-

Until Akaashi pushes him down back on the bed and all Osamu can do is stare at the form of the omega fucking himself on his dick, and he moans, head now falling behind, sweat dripping down his forehead. 

It’s a pretty different view from their last time.

When Akaashi starts bouncing up and down, obviously not caring at all if Osamu’s even liking it (but don’t take it the wrong way: he’s having the time of his life), obviously chasing down his own orgasm, the alpha feels like he has to move, has to lift his hips to meet Akaashi’s already erratic thrusts.

To reach him _deeper_.

But also to remind him of who he is: an alpha, _his_ alpha, and the realization fills his brain as he keeps moving his hips, thrusting sharply inside the omega. Suddenly, he’s glad that he’s still lying on the pillows, because he doesn’t know what he would have done if Akaashi's neck had been closer to his mouth right now, if the mating glands had been closer.

He can’t stop his hands from moving though, as they launch themselves onto the omega's tensed body, fingers scratching pale skin with infinite hunger. He grips his hips tightly, leaving white marks behind. And Akaashi just spreads his thighs a bit farther apart as Osamu slams into him harder this time, hands guiding the other man's body in his movements. They're making so much noise he doesn’t even register what’s coming out of his mouth anymore.

What he registers though, is the way Akaashi slowly tightens around him, softly clenching around his cock, and the warm liquid that is suddenly landing on his stomach. The omega grows incredibly still when he tenses, back arched and throat exposed. It's a blessing he’s not too close to that throat or- He grips his hips, keeps him seated there, prevents him from moving away as he rides his orgasm,

He’s still shaking on top of him when he manages to say, voice raspy and eyes still closed.

“Give me your knot, _alpha._ "

And oh, _oh,_ mother fucking O - H, please mother of god, give him a break because Osamu is only a man, and he only has _that much_ self-restraint left. 

He doesn’t believe in that idea of having an _alpha_ living inside of him that would take control of _Osamu_ , but when he swiftly moves to pin Akaashi down on the bed with his entire body, he doesn’t know if he’s entirely himself either. 

Quickly checking for any sign of discomfort or fear in the omega’s eyes, he sighs in relief when he only sees _hunger._

Yeah, he can deal with hunger.

He keeps his hands on Akaashi’s wrists but when the omega wraps one of his legs around his waist to pull him closer, looking at him with some kind of challenge in his eyes, he moans. He moans, and Akaashi starts setting the rhythm, his hips rolling as he fucks himself on Osamu’s cock once again, _even in this position._

The alpha is merely helping him, meeting him halfway, mouth wandering over his collarbones, biting at the exposed skin, and everything is just so warm, so hot, and the smell of sex is everywhere. 

There’s no way Akaashi will leave this room not smelling like Osamu, and this simple thought makes him growl with satisfaction.

He keeps pushing inside Akaashi’s pliant body, following the omega’s indications, letting him ride his dick like he wants to, getting closer and closer to the edge, smoothly, gradually- _again._

It doesn’t take him by surprise, when he finds himself standing in front of the cliff, he rolls his hips faster, fucks into him harder, and Akaashi is tensing beneath him already, but he just can’t- 

There’s something that prevents him from tumbling. 

His fingers are tight on the omega’s hips and it’s not really clear anymore who's fucking who, and Akaashi is so warm, and wet and tight around him, and he’s already clenching, squeezing around him, but he can’t, it’s just too good, it has to last for longer, maybe he can make him come again before he knots him, maybe he can-

“Come— _Fuck_ , come for me, _Osamu_ — Give me your knot— _Now._ ”

It’s stronger than him.

Akaashi demands, and Osamu obeys, teeth sinking into his omega’s shoulder as he groans, brain exploding in ecstasy. The other man follows, not far behind him enjoying his fourth orgasm of the night.

──

“Thank you, Miya-san,” Akaashi says with a small, almost shy, smile and Osamu smiles right back at him, “I know some people don’t like to help the same omega twice so- I appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing,” _it really isn’t._

He wasn’t about to leave an omega in need alone after all. He wasn’t about to let Akaashi get knotted by another alpha. 

[ **Filch voice** : _Oh dear, we are in trouble._ ]

It's nothing.

Of course, Osamu doesn’t tell him he usually refuses second encounters; doesn’t tell him he only agrees to go for a second time if the omega already has a lover who can’t create a knot; doesn’t tell him the last time he accepted to help an omega twice, he found himself falling in love with said 'omega'.

Osamu simply shrugs it off, watches Akaashi leave, not without smiling one last time in his direction.

[ mood: undecided ]

─✷─

_Man On Bus Can Tell By Surroundings He Either Hasn’t Reached Stop Yet Or Passed Stop Long Time Ago_

by **Akaashi Keiji** _  
_

─✷─

_ july 2020 _

“KEIJI!”

“Koutarou.” 

He finally accepted to drop the -san after he graduated from law school and Bokuto had drunkenly cried over his shoulder, asking him to refer to him as _Koutarou_ because he’d been calling Konoha _‘Akinori’_ for years now so why not him?

And Akaashi hadn’t had the courage to tell him it was because he's an alpha.

They’re standing outside the stadium in Tokyo where the Jackals just played against the JT Thunders.

“How are you? It’s been a while!”

“I came to visit you with Konoha just last month,” Akaashi states in disbelief, but can’t hide the small mile from spreading on his lips when Bokuto’s face turns dramatically sad.

“Once a month is still not enough! We have five years to make up for.”

“I know.” 

Saying that Bokuto doesn’t give him anxiety at times would be a lie, but in normal doses, he still is one of his closest friends, the one who both made him believe in himself and doubt himself when the time was right. If Konoha was a steady, reliable rock in the middle of the sea in the middle of a storm, Bokuto was his boat, the one that would lead him safely to the shore.

“Congratulations by the way!”

“Thank you! They were tough opponents, but our new setter is really good!”

“I saw that, he’s impressive.”

They keep chatting for a few minutes, standing on top of the stairs in front of the stadium before they’re interrupted by-

“ARAN! Such a good game, you last smash was _awesome_!” Bokuto says with a big smile in the direction of the approaching wing-spiker. 

“Thank you, your spikes were impressive as always.”

“Bokkun!”

“Tsum-Tsum! And Myaa-sam you’re here too!”

They keep talking. They keep talking, and Bokuto’s voice keeps ringing in his ears as he jumps on Atsumu to talk to him about whatever thing he would talk about with Miya Atsumu. But to Akaashi, it’s like everything is just suddenly becoming _white noise._ Because when he slowly turns his head to look at the group, he immediately meets Miya Osamu’s eyes. 

“Good evening,” the alpha greets him with a neutral smile. 

Considering the fact that they’ve slept together twice, he can safely assume that he recognized him. Or at least he hopes so.

“Good evening,” Akaashi replies, and if the others have noticed the strange scene unravelling next to them, they don’t say anything because they’re too busy commenting on the MSBY new team.

“Fukurodani setter, right?” Osamu asks with an amused smile.

And if time froze when their eyes met, this time, time seems to accelerate, and the others are now listening to them.

“Oh you two remember each other?” Atsumu asks with a grin, eyes going from one to the other. 

Two things enter Akaashi’s mind at that exact moment: 

One: Osamu knew who he was from the beginning, although he never made it clear during their last more _intimate_ encounters.

Two: Osamu is giving him a chance to act like they’ve never met after their volleyball game against each other. 

So, Akaashi manages to smile, a little grin that he probably wouldn’t have had the courage to plaster on his face, hadn’t Bokuto been here. His eyes meet Osamu’s who seems pretty amused by the situation, much to Akaashi’s annoyance. 

“My team lost against you, and we lost the last set because of Miya-san’s spike. Of course, I remember,” Akaashi replies as calmly as he can, with the sharp politeness he usually uses with his clients.

“Oh right! During the semi-finals in your third year!” Bokuto adds excitedly, “we never got to play against you when I was in the team, that’s a shame.”

“They would have lost for sure,” Akaashi declares with a stupid grin in Osamu’s direction, and the fire in his eyes doesn’t leave him, let’s say _completely unaffected._

“WHAT?” Atsumu gestures towards Bokuto, and he immediately looks at Aran, clearly waiting for him to say something. And the three of them start arguing in a childish cacophony, leaving some space for Osamu to come stand next to Akaashi.

“So, you knew exactly who I was.”

He might not be in heat right now, but he can still feel himself shiver when the alpha’s warm voice reaches his ears, his body tensing when Osamu comes to stand closer, not exactly touching him, but close enough for his scent to enter his nostrils. _Fuck._

“I did,” Akaashi manages to answer and Osamu laughs softly.

“Of course you did.”

“And so did you.”

Osamu nods and their eyes meet and Osamu smiles at him- he doesn’t look upset or angry. He just looks amused, but his face creates something warm, soft, _welcoming_ inside his stomach- frankly, Akaashi doesn’t know if it’s good news. 

Maybe it’s better not to dwell on it.

It’s better not to dwell on it, and even if he wanted to, it’s not like he has the time to process the new information because- 

_“Akaashi Keiji.”_

That voice. That annoying, loved, infuriating voice. _Oh, he is utterly fucked._ He is going to get annihilated.

“Why are you even here?”

Konoha Akinori magically appears in front of him, and Osamu somehow gets a clue to join his brother, not without checking if the guy is an actual threat or not before he leaves. But he probably already knows Konoha from Aran, or something like that. 

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Do not try to play dumb with me, Keiji.”

Well, at least he tried. 

But Konoha doesn’t even give him a chance to speak, to defend himself.

“It’s the 15th of July, you should be going into heat, _champion_.” 

Akaashi sighs. He knows, he _knows_ , but after last heat, who would blame him? Not that Konoha would understand. Not that any of them would understand. Omegas are supposed to stay at home, go into heat there. No one ever thought they would go to work, no one ever thought they would work crazy hours while having to deal with heats. And society never showed any mercy for them, taught them to be grateful for the crumbs they got- no one's allowed to blame him.

“I have this very big case I need to work on and couldn’t afford to lose a whole week.” 

Is it _that bad_ that he just wants to avoid his heat?

“But don’t worry, I promise I’ll trigger it next month.”

[ Spoiler alert: he won’t. ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke)


	4. Dream Pumpkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> farmer's child is akaashi. you is osamu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good EVENING PEOPLE,
> 
> chapter 4 is finally here. im kinda late on my own schedule because of rdr2 and botw, but im a free spirit so fuck my schedule yeeeeh.  
> i changed the overall number of chapters bc there will be 12 CHAPTERS!!!!! cheers.  
> i will also start adding the dates of each scene as well, to make it clearer.
> 
> \- klaudia, thank u for letting me have my mental breakdowns in ur dms, always. nori.................. im so not ready. fuck.
> 
> i hope you will enjoy this ride with me.

**CHAPTER 4.**

─✷─

_Farmer’s Child Forced To Slaughter Pumpkin They Spent Season Caring For_

by **Akaashi Keiji**

─✷─

_september 2020 _

“Good afternoon Akaashi,” Oikawa greets him.

Sometimes, he still finds it weird to think his boss only two years older than him, already has his own office and works as a partner. The perks of being an alpha, the perks of being his father’s son.

“Good afternoon, Sir. You wanted to see me?” 

He received a mail in the morning telling him to come to Oikawa’s office after lunch to discuss _important matters_. Whatever these matters are, the mail didn’t look too threatening, making him only _reasonably_ anxious.

His superior’s office is on top of the building. He doesn't have the displeasure of having people looking at him from their own office, at a rival firm, on the other side of the street. Lucky bastard.

“Yes, indeed. Very good work with the _Matsumoto_ case, you and Udai did a great job with that one.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Sit down,” he points at the leather chair in front of his desk with his index finger, before coming closer, resting his chin on top of his joined fingers, “I heard that you were working at the Center for Omegas in Need.”

At the mention of his volunteering activities, his heart skips a beat. There’s no way he can deny it, no way he _is_ going to deny it. His voluntary involvement at the Omega Center has never been a secret, let alone a shame he wants to hide. 

So, he nods, “I am.”

“Good. Good. Do you like it there?”

“I’ve been volunteering there since my third year of law school. They need me.”

He likes it there, but if Oikawa is going to use this against him, he’s definitely not going to let it look like it’s _a hobby._

“You are one of the best elements we have,” Oikawa starts with a sigh. If he ends up asking him to stop volunteering to spend more time working for the firm— _ugh_ he sincerely doesn’t know what he’s going to do. “But I can’t help thinking you’d like to do more than help random alphas in criminal cases involving tax evasion.”

“Everyone deserves a defence, Sir,” Akaashi automatically answers.

“I agree, I agree. That’s why we do what we do.”

They eye each other, Akaashi trying to guess what his boss is trying to say, what he is _going_ to say, Oikawa trying to guess what’s going on in the omega’s brain. 

“But this world needs more omega lawyers. I’m sure you will agree.”

“I do.”

“Suna Rintarou, a dear friend of mine, is looking for omega lawyers, to handle specific cases involving omegas. I can tell him about you, if you’d like. I’m sure you’ve handled cases similar to theirs at the Center.”

Well, that's something he wasn’t expecting.

“I— I’d have to think about it, but—”

“This world needs more people like you, Akaashi. I’d hate to see you waste your time here,” Oikawa objects before looking away, “your chances of ever becoming a partner here are very small. Despite your great work, you’re still—” he stops, hesitates, looking at him with a serious look.

“—I’m still an omega,” Akaashi finishes his sentence with a grimace.

“Yes. And I think you’re exactly the kind of person he is looking for. Everyone deserves a defence, we agreed on this. But I think that, for now, omegas might be the ones who need a good defence the most.” _Not alphas trapped in tax fraud debacles._

“That’s— That’s very kind of you to tell me all of this.”

“Ah, you know, the turnover here is huge. There’s a reason for it. You’ll grow an ulcer before you hit 30. I’m sure you were one of those people who entered law school thinking they’d end up defending the weaker people, orphans, omegas in distress... I’m giving you the opportunity to do just that.”

His tone has grown weirdly sentimental, allowing Akaashi to see a glimpse of who Oikawa might be behind his impassible _lawyer_ mask.

“Also, I’m helping a friend.”

“When are they hiring?”

“He’ll hire you if I ask him to. His headquarters are smaller than ours, but it’s in Kōbe, so you won’t have to leave the city.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“If you say yes, I’ll let him know so you two can meet. But first, I’d like you to work with me on one last case. Then, you're free to leave whenever you’re ready.”

It won’t make a huge difference anyway if he leaves. Not in a firm as huge as this one. People come and go, arriving from rival firms, leaving for other rival firms. And by the time they retire, most people will have worked for at least five of the biggest firms in town. 

“Thank you very much for trusting me, Sir.”

“And if we ever have to face each other in court, don’t go easy on me,” Oikawa warns him with a bright, almost cruel, smile that screams, _because I won’t._

This might be the first time Akaashi ever felt like an equal to an alpha.

──

“KEIJI! YOU’RE LATE!” Konoha screams before he even has the time to open the door completely.

The flat is packed with familiar faces from high school. Of course, he arrived later than his friends because: _work._ Most former Fukurodani members are already sitting around the coffee table, trying to build the highest tower possible with beer cans and bottles. 

Bokuto is the one currently putting his bottle on top of dozens of others. His tongue is out, squeezed between his teeth as he carefully removes his fingers from the glass, fear filling his eyes when the tower starts moving dangerously. 

But it finally stabilizes, growing still despite the loud cheers from all Fukurodani members moving around the fragile tower.

“Yeah— Stuff for Oikawa,” he vaguely explains, getting rid of his coat once he’s sure the glass construction is safe.

“KEIJIIIIIIII” Bokuto greets him as soon as he sees him.

He doesn’t wrap his arms around him anymore when he sees him after a long time, knows it’s not a gesture Akaashi likes, especially not when he’s the only sober one (for now) in a room. Instead, he opens his arms and moves them vigorously in the air as he walks up towards his friend.

“The beers are in the fridge,” Konoha informs him, because _of course_ the asshole wouldn't bother moving to bring him one. 

_Stupid birthday boy thinks everything is owed to him._ (Maybe it kind of is). 

“And when the bottle is empty you have to put it on the tower.”

“Sure thing.”

(He's not going to do it.)

But first, he goes upstairs to the guest room to leave his bag and coat on the bed. If everything goes according Konoha's plans, everyone should have a place to crash, so he should have the double bed all for himself.

Nothing ever goes according to plans on Konoha’s birthday. It's the most chaotic day of the year.

Closing the door behind him, he doesn’t see the man standing in the corridor before their bodies crash against each other.

 _Alpha_ (the first thing he thinks; be careful)

 _Somehow familiar scent_ (the second thing his brain comes up with; you can relax)

 _Miya_ (third; the scent sends shivers down his arms)

 _Atsumu_ (fourth; not Osamu, the shivers die down)

 _Wait— No._ [Confusion.] (fifth; not a Miya?)

He finally takes a step back to look at the man he just ran into, blinking when he recognizes him.

It’s definitely not Miya Atsumu who is standing in front of him, despite the familiar scent that Akaashi recognizes immediately as belonging to a Miya. The face is familiar, the moles are familiar, but it’s been _years_ since he last saw him, from across the court, with Bokuto crumbling down next to him.

“Sakusa?”

“Akaashi.”

Since when was _Sakusa Kiyoomi_ invited to _Konoha’s_ birthday parties? Many weird folks have been invited here to celebrate the birth of his best friend over the years, but he never would have expected _The Sakusa_ to ever show up, especially not with Bokuto sitting a few meters away. (Not because any of them would've started a fight, but because Bokuto would've screamed for _revenge,_ magically pulling a volleyball out of his tiny bag to ask for a rematch. In the middle of Konoha’s flat.) 

“What are you—”

“Omi-omi, you’re here! Oh and with Akaashi!”

Miya Atsumu appears in the corridor, signature smirk plastered on his face, wearing an old red Inarizaki hoodie ( _'_ _trying to make a statement here Miya?’ Akaashi will mock him later) (‘We would have crushed you, even with Bokuto still in your team’) '‘I don’t think so’ Sakusa would then answer with a lazy grin) (‘HOW DARE YOU? YOU TRAITOR!’)_.

He leans in on Sakusa, his hand gripping his shoulder. 

And Sakusa doesn’t even flinch.

Ooookay.

_Explains the scent._

“Miya.”

“Come on, call me Atsumu, if you start calling me Miya, the other idiot will answer instead of me—”

“Who are you calling an idiot, asshole?”

“No one, no one,” Atsumu raises his hands in the air in a sign of surrender.

“Long time no see, Akaashi,” Osamu appears behind his brother with a similar lazy grin on his lips. 

Now, this is a familiar scent, the _real_ familiar scent he thought he detected on Sakusa, then on Atsumu. 

“Osamu,” he greets him with a polite nod.

“Oh we’re on a given name basis now?”

“There’s no reason for him to show more respect for you than for me,” Atsumu intervenes.

“Maybe because I’m more respectable?” 

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

“Ignore him, Akaashi please, forget we’re related. You can call me Osamu, at least it won’t remind me that I share genes with _him,”_ he says with a disgusted face when he points his thumb towards Atsumu.

“The only genes we share are the handsomness ones. They forgot the genes of respectableness when you were created though,” Atsumu whines.

“When they’re like this, it’s better to just ignore them. You want a beer?” Sakusa comes to stand closer to him, eyes emotionless, as if he was used to this (which, all things considered, he probably was).

“Yeah,” Akaashi nods, and they both start to make their way towards the staircase, ignoring both Atsumu and Osamu when they walk past them.

“They’re morons, but they’re cool. When they make efforts.”

“I bet.”

“I’m glad I finally have someone _reasonable_ to talk to. Apart from Aran—”

“Don’t you want to play against Bokuto in the kitchen? Between you and Aran we have three of the best aces of the high school circuit,” Akaashi finally gathers the courage to ask, because the question has been itching the tip of his lips since he first saw Sakusa in the hallway.

“I don’t think Konoha would appreciate it—”

“Oh, believe me, Konoha would _love_ it. He would bet money on the outcome.”

Sakusa shoots him an amused look, the first positive expression he’s ever seen in the alpha’s eyes since— since forever. They met for the first time all these years ago, but his cold behaviour hasn't changed that much.

He hands him a beer from the fridge with a friendly smile. 

“AGAAAAAASHI!”

“Here comes trouble,” said-Akaashi mumbles before he turns around to look at Bokuto who's running towards him.

“Konoha said he’d play _TWISTER_ with us, but only if you play too.”

“Let me finish my beer, and I’m coming.”

Bokuto’s smile is something that would make even Sakusa’s heart swell, Akaashi knows it. Once his friend's gone, probably going back to the living room to annoy Konoha or Washio, Akaashi notices Sakusa glaring at the beer in his hand with an amused smile.

“Your bottle's still full.”

“I know.”

──

It takes twelve minutes of Bokuto coming and going, back and forth, from the living room to the kitchen, for Akaashi to finally give up and gulp the entirety of his beer in one go. If it's TWISTER that he wants, then he'll get some TWISTER.

“Akaashi! Finally!”

“Let me get drunk before I put my legs between yours, Aki.”

Konoha grins as he sets up the Twister mat, but doesn't even flinch at the flirtatious remark. They missed that kind-of-relationship phase a long time ago.

“Aran, you take the spinner,” he orders.

“Of course, _master.”_

_Master?  
_

_Sure._

Aran comes to sit in front of the mat, and everyone is now joining them in the living room, all of them more or less drunk as they cheer for the three players.

“Keiji.”

“Akinori.”

“I’ll avenge my honour, Keiji.”

Akaashi grins, nods at Aran who nods back. It means he'll be as impartial as he can be while looking at his boyfriend's ass.

Bokuto comes to stand next to him, giving him two thumbs up.

“I’m a pro VB player now, I can beat you.”

“Doesn’t mean you have more balance than I do.”

“We’ll see,” Konoha winks at him.

──

Bokuto's the first one to fall. He does so silently, when he fails to put his foot on the red circle, loses his balance, and trips on the floor, making Akaashi almost fall with him.

Konoha fails second, when he falls on one knee, screaming in somehow honourable agony.

And so, Akaashi wins.

──

“So. You’re pretty flexible,” a voice comes from behind him, almost making Akaashi jump.

_Dear fucking gods please no._

Osamu enters the kitchen, takes a bottle of beer in the fridge before he comes to stand against the counter, next to Akaashi- _very close to Akaashi._

_Shit._

The truth is, he tried to avoid him all night. Who can blame him? 

Is there anything more embarrassing than meeting your one-night stand at your best friend's birthday party? The exact same guy who saw you naked and whimpering and _in heat?_ Sure, some situations are more embarrassing (read: meeting said guy _at a family gathering,_ for example) but still. It's pretty damn awkward.

Well, it doesn't matter, because he’s cornered now, and it's not like he can try to escape without Osamu noticing.

“It's my greatest talent,” Akaashi finally admits, looking at Osamu's hands on the counter— _why did he do that, fuck._

“Oh you’re pretty good at a lot of other things, don’t worry.”

Lazy stupid grin is back, and _it does things to him, okay?_

“Apparently, I’m an okay-ish lawyer too, yeah.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s your greatest talent?” Akaashi asks, finally looking at him from under his lashes (and he doesn't even notice that he's doing it—)

“I’m an okay teacher, I guess.”

“What field?”

“French literature.”

Akaashi blinks at his half full beer. _French literature._ The idea of having Osamu whispering (dirty) things in French in his ear—

 _Don’t go down that path, idiot,_ he tells his brain (and his dick).

“Although I’m working on my PhD dissertation at the moment.”

“I see.”

“But I’m also a great dancer.”

“Oh god—”

“Want me to show you?”

His entire plan consisted of _'avoid Osamu, don’t get close to Osamu'_ but it just crumbles down as soon as the alpha puts his beer on the counter, takes his hand in his with his stupid confident grin. His gestures are gentle, as if he’s expecting Akaashi to pull away at any moment— and they both know he would let him.

Which is the exact reason why he doesn’t.

Osamu slightly pulls at his hand, until Akaashi stands in the middle of the kitchen. He puts his phone on the counter, and the first notes of _that hellish stupid song_ starts playing, and he can't help but smile anyway— and _oh god okay Keiji calm down._

“You’re insecure,” Osamu starts singing behind him, his face coming dangerously closer to his ear, “don’t know what for. You're turning heads when you walk through the doooooor.”

“Oh god.”

His hands is now resting on his hips, his chest now pressed against Akaashi’s back, and he keeps singing _‘don't need makeup to cover up, being the way that you are is enooooough’._ His hands never leave his hips, when he makes the omega turn around, now facing him. His seductive grin has turned into a genuinely amused smile: Akaashi's heart skips a beat or two.

 _“Eaaaaveryone else in the room can see iiiiit, eeeveryone else but—”,_ he bumps his index finger on Akaashi’s nose, his eyes shining, gentle, “—you.”

His hands slowly leave his hips. He takes a step back and opens his arms, moving his hips in tune with the music ( _‘baby you light up my world like nobody else’)._ He sings so badly, Akaashi’s having a hard time not to grin right back at him. ( _‘the way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed, but when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell’),_ and now he’s coming back, walking behind him, one arm around sliding Akaashi’s waist, turning him around as he goes from his right to his left, before he comes back in front of him ( _‘you don’t know you’re beautiful’_ ).

This time, Akaashi laughs, light and free, and maybe he's slightly drunk, but that’s okay, it’s not like he would have stopped him anyway, even sober. 

_“If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately—”_

_Oh is that so?_ is what he means, when he raises his eyebrows, looking mockingly at Osamu.

_“Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe, you don't know— you don't know you're beautiful.”_

It doesn’t matter if his singing is completely off-key. His hands are on his hips, their chests, thighs, dicks _,_ pressed against each other. 

_“That's what makes you beautiful,”_ he whispers, only a few centimetres from Akaashi’s face, eyes now warm, and smile genuine. 

Zayn keeps singing in the background.

Akaashi takes Osamu’s face in his hands, and he kisses him.

──

They end up kissing for a while. It's hungry and almost desperate, before Akaashi finally pulls away.

“You’re a good dancer,” he says with a small laugh, trying to fill the awkward silence.

“Apparently.”

“But you’re such a bad singer.”

“I’ll let you serenade me next time, then.”

“Sure,” Akaashi smiles.

They're still close to each other. Their noses are still touching, their breaths still mixing, but he slowly starts to walk away. There are things two _heat-buddies_ , two heat partners who aren't meant to share anything, especially not feelings.

Akaashi knows it.

Osamu knows it.

So, Osamu can only watch him leave, going back to his beer, eyes lost on the wall.

──

Akaashi goes to sleep not so long after that. Some people have left the party already, some others are still here, dancing in the living room.

Konoha kisses him on both cheeks to wish him _goodnight_ after he tells him he's exhausted because of work stuff.

He discreetly tries to look for Osamu— _to tell him goodnight, or whatever._

But Osamu is nowhere to be found.

──

He doesn’t even wake up when the beer bottle tower crashes on the floor.

──

But the thing he does wake up to, is the sound of a voice on the other side of the wall. They must be in the bathroom, Akaashi's tired brain assumes. It takes a few additional seconds for him to realize it’s _Osamu’s_ voice that’s shouting in a quiet whisper, probably on the phone, since no one’s answering him. 

“Konoha is doing _I-don’t-want-to-know-what_ with Aran right now, I don’t want to interrupt them because of _your_ idiocy.”

A long pause.

“The ones who are still here do not live in our area, I’m not going to ask them to drive me on the other side of town when _you_ are the one who should be driving me back home.”

Short pause again, before Osamu starts laughing, dry and humourless. Obviously annoyed.

Akaashi sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and quickly sits up before slipping outside his bed, barefoot with only his underwear and one of Konoha’s old hoodies covering his skin. He doesn’t bother putting pants on, it’s not like Osamu’s never seen him in his underwear anyway (or worse: naked.).

“Oh, no, don’t even think about it, asshole, I won’t pay for a cab. _Y_ _ou_ are the one who left me here to do fuck knows what with Sakusa.”

He chooses this moment to knock on the door, closing his eyes when the lights of the bathroom blinds him for a moment. 

“You, or Sakusa _are_ coming to get me or I swear—”

“Osamu?”

Their eyes meet in the mirror. Osamu smiles tiredly at him and quickly goes back to staring at the sink, listening to his brother.

“It’s just Akaashi— No, I won’t.” 

He hears Atsumu say something, but can’t decipher the words, only notices that Osamu definitely doesn’t meet his eyes when he says, “I’m not doing that, come and get me, that’s all.”

“You can sleep in the guest room, if you can’t go home right now,” Akaashi suggests, before he really thinks about it, still a bit drowsy.

He moves closer, their eyes meet again, and he can hear Atsumu’s loud ‘ _HA SEE? YOU CAN STAY HERE AND HAVE FUN!’_

Which is quickly followed by a loud _beep_ sound. 

Osamu groans, staring at his phone before putting it back in his back pocket.

They probably haven’t been as discreet as they thought with the side looks (and the kissing), but it doesn’t really matter. To anyone else, they'd only look like two drunk people mindlessly flirting. It’s not like any of their friends even knows they’ve been spending Akaashi's heats together, right?

(He doesn’t really know.)

(Maybe Osamu tells his twin everything, maybe—)

(It doesn’t matter.) 

“I’m sorry, I—” Osamu starts, but Akaashi stops him with a small tired smile.

“It’s okay, it’s not like we’ve never—” he gestures between them with his hand, _slept together before_.

Yeah, they have slept together before, in both the abstract sexual and literal sleeping way. 

But the right words would rather be _passed out next to each other before,_ since they just happened to fall asleep after one or two rounds.

So, it’s not like they've _really_ slept together before. 

_But let’s not dwell on semantics, shall we?_

“Yeah.”

“I don’t mind sharing the bed, it’s big enough for the both of us anyway. We'll just sleep and— that’s all.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Osamu whispers with a nod.

“Don’t worry, it’s the least I can do.”

Osamu smiles, and okay, Akaashi’s totally conscious now, not in a sleepy haze anymore. He can tell this is a _bad idea_ because he already wants to kiss this mouth again, and his smile really is cute when it’s not just a cocky smirk- _ah, fuck._

─✷─

_Report: You Slept Through Your Alarm And This All A Dream_

by **Miya Osamu**

─✷─

Atsumu is whining stupid baseless excuses in his ear when Akaashi enters the bathroom. Their eyes meet in the mirror, before he lets his gaze quickly drift down the omega’s body, only half-covered by a large green hoodie that falls over his knees. And for all they’ve seen each other naked (only twice, but you know), this feels far more intimate than anything he’s seen before. 

There’s tired sincerity in his eyes when Akaashi looks at him, softness in the dimples next to his mouth that just makes Osamu want to kiss them gently, need to at least caress them with the tip of his fingers.

It only took him two heats which happened six months apart, a few stolen kisses and a smile for him to kind-of-almost-maybe fall for his heat-buddy all over again.

_Fucking idiotic stupid fool._

His brother ends up hanging up on him, but he can’t even bring himself to care. Akaashi suggests that they _sleep_ together, and he finds himself agreeing with a small sigh of relief.

“Okay,” he says.

It’s not like he has a choice anyway: the subway is closed until 5:30 a.m. and Atsumu is glued to Sakusa at home. It leaves him with only two options. Calling a cab (which he will not do. Atsumu is the rich twin). Or sleeping (sleeping!) with Akaashi.

He doesn’t have to think about it more than once before he follows his two-times-heat-buddy to the guest bedroom.

──

They stay as far away from each other as possible, which isn’t that hard in such a large bed.

('Why does Konoha have such a big bed?' he asks when he enters the room. ‘We used to live together, this used to be my bedroom, and this was my bed,’ Akaashi explains.).

Surprisingly, Osamu doesn’t find it too hard to fall asleep. He takes off his shirt and his pants, leaving him in his underwear, slips under the covers, closes his eyes (not without taking one last look at the man next to him), and falls asleep listening to Akaashi’s regular breathing.

──

It’s still dark when he opens his eyes again, groaning because of the heat. He’s definitely overheating and— oh, yeah, _that’s why._

Next to him, gently rubbing his face against the side of his bare chest, is Akaashi. He’s laying on his side, his leg thrown over his and his left arm wrapped around Osamu’s abdomen. 

_Explains the temperature._

“Osamu,” Akaashi’s voice reaches his ears, quiet, lazy and obviously still half asleep.

“Shhh,” he whispers, letting the arm draw complicated designs on Akaashi's back, his gesture soft and tender.

“Mmmh you’re warm,” he mumbles, slowly opening his eyes to meet Osamu’s ones, and he smiles, soft and timid, but still genuine. It goes through his heart like an ice pick. 

The omega rubs his nose against his naked skin a few times before his face moves to come closer to his face, until he's pressing his nose against his bare neck, his left arm still tightly wrapped around his hips.

“I like it.” 

Osamu’s definitely not asleep anymore when the other man starts kissing his neck. He's bad at hiding the effect his tongue has on his racing heart, and the feeling even ends up ripping a small moan out of Osamu's lips. It only gets louder once Akaashi’s fingers start to travel south, wandering on his chest, touching his nipples until they arrive at his already hardening length. He cups him through his underwear, and Osamu’s breath becomes shaky in his throat. 

“I was dreaming about you—” Akaashi murmurs right in his ear, he slips his hand in his underwear, against his now rock hard cock, “the things you were doing to me— the things I was doing to you—”

“Oh, what was I doing?” he manages to reply despite the tightness of his throat. His thighs tense on their own accord when Akaashi starts touching him, wrapping his fingers around his length, moving up and down, stroking slow, before closing his fist tightly around the uncut head, “what were _you_ doing?”

Akaashi’s breath catches in his throat before he starts slowly nipping at the tender skin of his throat. It’s less dangerous for an omega to bite an alpha’s mating glands, so Osamu doesn’t mind Akaashi softly biting him there, hissing when he feels teeth getting closer to the sensitive spot on the left side of his neck. 

His mouth finally moves down to reach his naked shoulders. Then Akaashi’s entire body starts moving, but his hand never leaves his cock. He sits on Osamu’s thighs, his face coming close to his own, before he kisses him, deep and slow, almost lazy, as if they were still in an endless dream, as if they still had all the time in the world.

“This is only for tonight,” Akaashi finally whispers against his lips, whatever _this_ means.

“Only for tonight,” Osamu repeats in agreement.

This is the safest they can play this game, with no strings attached. With only one exception:

Tonight.

“Then it’ll only be during my heats.”

So they're officially heat-partners, then?

“Deal,” he says, and he doesn't even think about it.

This time, Osamu is the one who kisses him, pushing his tongue inside his mouth, but when Akaashi gasps, his body tensing under his touch. He retreats. He doesn’t have time to ask though, because this time, the omega is sitting back up, now on his knees, already getting rid of his hoodie, his underwear, taking Osamu’s boxer shorts with his own clothes to throw everything on the floor.

“Maybe it _is_ a dream,” Akaashi jokes, but it’s not impossible that they’ll both end up believing it.

Because it’s easier that way, easier to pretend there’s nothing more than just _business_ between the two of them.

“Show me what you were dreaming about, then,” Osamu teases, but he ends up being the one teased, because Akaashi is now kneeling between his spread l. The mere prospect of what is going to happen makes his dick twitch, already making him lose his damn mind. 

He doesn’t have to say anything. Akaashi’s tongue experimentally licks his slit, before taking the head of his cock between his lips, wet and warm. He can’t refrain the hand that flies towards his hair. Not to push, or pull, but to feel _the connection._

They’re in the middle of a dream after all.

Akaashi's lips slide from the tip to the base, and Osamu doesn’t hold back his moans when his dick hits the back of the omega's throat. He has to gather all his mental strength to stop himself from pushing inside the other man's welcoming mouth, to avoid thrusting forward and choke him, “Akaashi—”

He starts moving despite not meaning to, and when Akaashi’s index and middle fingers come to find the spot behind his balls, when he pushes against the thin skin there- he can’t hold back, his movements become desperate, and he thrusts inside the wet, hot mouth surrounding him, over and over and over again. Osamu doesn’t feel it coming, he finds himself tripping over, with his mind exploding in front of his eyes, behind his eyelids, white entering his vision. He comes down Akaashi’s throat, with a muffled cry.

After a few seconds, Akaashi finally comes back up, directly pressing a wet kiss under Osamu’s ear, before whispering, “one day I will suck you for so long you’ll pop your knot in my mouth.”

_Shit._

“Fuck- Was that in your dream too?” _because I’m not against trying that, actually._

“No,” he whispers, lips brushing softly against his ear.

“What were we doin—” but he already has an idea of what they were doing in that dream, or maybe it's his own fantasy speaking too loudly in his brain. Deep down, really deep down, he hopes he’s right. 

“I was fucking you,” Akaashi confides, his fingers tracing the line of his throat, gently pressing against his mating gland.

_Holy shit,_

_Thank gods for this man._

It still a second or two for the words to sink in, for the image to enter his brain, but it’s enough for his dick to start growing hard again. How much filth can Akaashi put in one sentence and a whisper, Osamu wonders, but hey, he’s not complaining. Far from it.

“Do it.”

“You want to?” _I need you to._

It would be a lie to say he hasn’t been thinking about it ever since Akaashi’s slightly _commanding_ tendencies awakened something in him a few months ago.

“I want to know how it feels.”

“Osamu—” he doesn't know if it's from astonishment or if it's a warning.

“I want to feel _you_ inside me— Been thinking about it for a whi—” he doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence. Akaashi is now hovering over him, lube taken from the bedside table and magically appearing in his hand before he gets closer to his ear again.

“You want to be on your back or do you want me from behind?”

Just the picture, the image of Akaashi standing behind him— taking him— it makes his mind fuzzy, his body grow hot with need. Is he really the alpha here?

“From behind, fuck Akaashi—”

Akaashi bites his throat again, and again, his hand going down again, and Osamu shivers when he presses the first lubed finger inside him. He’s done it to himself before— always has been curious, especially since one particularly demanding omega entered his life— but this, this is different, and he can only blame his body when it starts responding, and he starts rocking his hips to make Akaashi reach deeper inside.

“M-More, you can add more,” he manages to demand, his voice still raspy from the moans that have been ripped from his throat earlier.

A second finger joins the first, and when the third finger comes, he can tell Akaashi’s not _stretching_ him anymore. He's now slowly, frustratingly, making him fall apart around his fingers. And then- then he bends his fingers, pushing exactly where he has to, to make Osamu lose his mind completely, like he's done this many times before. His back arches from the mattress. Akaashi slides an arm behind him, keeping him in this position while he keeps pushing his fingers inside of him, curling them, leaving heated kisses down his chest.

Osamu is just lost— in his own blurry mind, in his own pleasure— he just lets Akaashi hold him, lets him whisper in his ear (‘ _you’re taking it so well, Osamu’_ ).

Akaashi keeps lazily fingering him for a few minutes, his free hand rubbing Osamu's thighs that are spread around him, before he finally retreats, ignoring the alpha’s low growls.

“Roll over for me,” he _finally_ orders, sliding a condom over his dick before Osamu obeys.

Instinctively, because that's how he usually likes it when it's the other way around, he gets up on all fours, shivering when Akaashi’s hand starts to roam his lower back, his ass. He briefly touches him inside again, before he finally aligns himself with his carefully lubbed hole.

His cock is not as big as an alpha’s, not as thick (and Osamu’s glad it’s not, hell, he doesn’t know how Sakusa and Atsumu even do it), but it’s long, and slightly bend, and it’s perfect, feels heavy between his cheeks, and wide when he finally pushes inside. 

They both groan in unison; there are no words to describe what he’s feeling when Akaashi starts moving, slow, slow, so slow. So slow, he actually starts pushing back eagerly, moaning into his pillow. His upper body falls onto the mattress, only resting on his elbows, and his nails begin piercing the skin of his palms. He feels so _full, so_ stretched, and so close already. More than that, he feels _open, vulnerable—_

_Weak?_

But it's Akaashi— he reminds himself, and being weak is fine, if it's with him, right? 

“You are so— _tight,_ ” Akaashi growls in his ear when he falls forward, shielding him with his body, his face now buried in Osamu's right shoulder, “you feel so good.” 

He shouldn’t be so receptive to praise. But the thing is, _he is._

And when Akaashi’s arm slides around his stomach, holding him in place before he starts pushing in harder, he feels it piercing through him, the nudge against his prostate, slightly painful but electrifying at the same time. It rips another long whine out of him, takes the air out of his lungs, but Akaashi doesn’t stop, pushes in harder, presses him against the mattress, always keeping his hips up with one arm- and Osamu’s toes start to curl. He’s painfully hard again now, silently begging for Akaashi to just _touch him there—_

“You came untouched in my dream,” he tells him, a filthy whisper in his ear that makes him shake in his arms.

 _Coming untouched._ He never dared to think of it. But now that the idea is panted inside his head, he knows he’ll never be able to _not think about it._

“But maybe you want to come in my mouth again? What do you think?” 

At this point, Osamu doesn’t even _think_ anymore, doesn’t know what he wants, or what he doesn’t want. He just needs Akaashi close, however, wherever he wants it.

“You want to fuck my face?”

And oh, that does it.

He’s still an alpha, and he might get off of all of this, but he’s still has some fight in him— wants to prove it, just because he can, to prove a point, to Akaashi- to himself.

“Want to fuck me into the mattress and fill me up good, Akaashi? Give me what I _need?_ ”

Visibly, Akaashi is closer than either of them thought, because he tenses behind him, his arm tightening in his embrace— he moans in his ear, and his thrusts become erratic, sloppy, they get harder, more brutal. He pushes Osamu's body against the pillow, and the alpha accepts it, muffling the sound of his moans as much as he can (not that he really cares who hears them at that point).

“Fuck Osamu,” is the last thing Akaashi says, riding out his orgasm, filling the condom with a groan next to his ear.

“Fu—” okay, he almost comes right there— but he doesn’t.

Because Akaashi pulls out quickly, making him groan in discomfort. His body falls against the pillow next to Osamu's, and for the first time in what feels like hours, they look at each other for real. 

“You sure?” Osamu asks, rolling on his side.

He’s still so incredibly _close._ He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Akaashi tells him no, and he has to walk outside this bedroom with the bluest balls ever.

“It didn’t happen in your dream,” Osamu whispers with half of a grin, offering him a way out. 

“Oh don’t worry, it’ll happen in the next one,” Akaashi smirks, disposing of the condom before putting his arm on each side of his waist as Osamu approaches, his painfully hard dick now only a few centimetres away from the omega's face, “you can come on my face if you want.”

“God, Akaashi,” he doesn’t have the time to really answer anything more coherent, because the omega's lips are now wrapped around the head of his cock. He sucks on it before taking him deeper, tongue dancing around his length. And _god,_ what a sight. He’s looking right at him, eyes already watering from the lack of air, as he forces him deeper inside, almost choking around him; and yet he still sucks him with everything he has, looks at him like he’s the last drop of strawberry milk he’ll ever taste.

“Shit— shit—” Osamu's hands fly up to grip strands of black hair, “you still want me to fuck your face?” 

Akaashi blinks, hums around him, an unsaid _yes,_ just before Osamu finally thrusts further inside, deeper, and it’s so wet, and warm, and tight. His hands pull at his hair, sharp as his hips follow the same rhythm, holds Akaashi there with his nose buried against his pubic hair, Osamu's dick fully inside his mouth. It's not long before he can feel himself coming again, can feel himself fall, his head falling back. He moans loudly.

He comes back to himself quickly when he notices his knot starting to swell, making Akaashi cough, his mouth now filled with Osamu’s cum for the second time that day. He immediately releases him, the last drops landing on the omega’s lips and nose. 

“Holy shit—” Osamu says in one breath.

He falls next to Akaashi who nods, humming softly in approval, wiping the cum from his face with a small smile.

“This was so much better than my dream,” he admits with a raspy voice.

Osamu laughs, pulling him against his chest, his face now buried in Akaashi’s hair, breathing his scent in— and it’s so different from his usual heat scent. It smells like sleep, and rest, heavy and deep, like a bed after a long night.

“Don't let me believe this was all a dream,” Akaashi whispers just before drifting away, sleep immediately overtaking him.

──

It’s the sound of a phone vibrating on the bedside table that wakes him up the next morning. Akaashi is still sleeping in his arms, his face against his neck, breathing softly. But after the third vibration, he jolts up, his eyes landing on Osamu's naked silhouette, then on his phone in confusion. He smiles tiredly at him before taking the evil device and pressing it against his ear.

“Hello?” 

Osamu even dares rub Akaashi's bare back with his warm hand, looking at the omega with soft eyes, quickly realizing from his face that the call is _bad news._

“Don’t panic, Kenma. It’s going to be okay, I’m coming as fast as I can. Don’t let her leave, I’ll bring her to the center— Okay— Yeah I’ll find a way, don’t worry.”

“Emergency?” Osamu asks, trying to decipher Akaashi’s tight features.

“Yeah, we could say that.”

They both dress up quickly, ignoring the awkwardness that comes with morning afters (they’re used to it by now) (even though this time was pretty different from the others) (fuck). And he has to admit Akaashi definitely looks more put together than him, when they leave the bedroom.

“Osamu! Keiji!” Konoha’s delighted voice welcomes them in the kitchen, “Sakusa-dear is already here to pick you up, Osamu. Aran has already left. He took the train at 4 a.m. Can you believe?” _we were still fucking at 2 a.m. yesterday,_ he doesn't say, but they all know.

“I need to get going, Kenma called me, it's an emergency.”

“Did something happen?”

“Not to someone we know, no. He called me so I could take care of it on behalf of the Center or whatever— well, I have to go, the subway in the morning is a pain.”

“If it’s an emergency, Sakusa can drive you,” Osamu suggests before anyone can add anything and _oh these daggers in Sakusa’s eyes are directly pointed at him._ _Nice._

“Oh, would you do that?” 

Even Sakusa Kiyoomi cannot resist Akaashi’s hopeful eyes apparently, because he slowly nods, “I guess I can.”

“Thank you so much, I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Sakusa shrugs it off, leaving his half drank cup of coffee on the table before standing up, “I’ll come pick you up when we’re done,” he tells Osamu, obviously _pissed_ at the situation. 

He’s going to regret it so much, later. And he can't count on Atsumu to defend him against Sakusa. Wonderful.

“Yeah.”

He watches them leave, side by side, not without smiling one last time at Akaashi.

──

“Maybe I should bake a cake for Keiji. He’s been wearing himself out with work again lately,” Konoha finally says once the door is closed.

The beer bottles are all gone. The green glass tower has fallen.

Konoha obviously did some tidying up before Sakusa came over (or maybe it was Aran’s job) and is now looking pensively at his phone. He's now still sitting on the kitchen table instead of the chair like he was when Sakusa was still there. Only Kiyoomi is worthy of seeing his dignified side apparently.

“Do you even know how to bake a cake?” Osamu asks, eyeing his friend with suspicion. 

They’ve been friends for a year, ever since Konoha started dating Aran. Since the first time they met, and the man told him he cut his bangs with kitchen scissors, Osamu _knew_ , deep down, in his _very_ _soul,_ that the guy was the embodiment of Chaos. SO he knows, somehow, that this is going to be a disaster.

“No, but I’m sure _you_ do.”

Osamu laughs. Well, it’s actually a good distraction, “I do.”

“Good.”

“Maybe you should take off your dressing gown first, the sleeves might dip into the cake batter.”

Konoha eyes him for a second, looks down at his fluffy oversized dressing gown, and dramatically takes it off, letting it fall on the floor before throwing it across the room, making it land on the coffee table. 

And when Osamu’s eyes finally go back to Konoha, he realizes that he’s now _in his underwear,_ grinning.

“Do you have a recipe for a chocolate cake?”

“No, you’ll have to google it.”

Konoha nods, and takes his phone from the counter at the same time Osamu lets his body fall on the couch, watching the man mumble to himself. 

“A bowl? Ah, _fuck.”_

So, this already sounds like a disaster.

“Ah. Well. It’s dirty. I forgot to turn the dishwasher on. Well, we’re gonna do with what we have!”

“You forgot to turn the dishwasher on,” Osamu repeats. He’s not even face-palming, because he can see himself growing more and more amused at the situation. 

Maybe he should have let Konoha bake in his dressing gown after all.

“Yes, I forgot to turn on the dishwasher, and I also forgot to hang out the washing, although it’s been in the washing machine for two days, but it’s Sunday, give me a break, Osamu.”

See? _Chaotic._

Osamu stands up and follows him in the kitchen, watching Konoha walk towards the sink to wash the bowl. (how can someone be this chaotic when only washing a _bowl_ ) (how can so much water land on the floor and not in the sink?) (why is he using so much dish soap?) Osamu groans, it’s a blessing he’s not hungover right now, because he’d get a headache just from watching the man bake.

“Here, take this, you will be my pilot,” Konoha announces, handing him his phone with the recipe on it.

“Sooooo, we need chocolate. Yeah. I have that.”

He takes out four chocolate bars.

“I don’t think you’ll need that much chocolate.”

Konoha stares at him while snapping bits off of the first bar he opens, and the sight feels somehow threatening. He throws them in the (now clean) bowl, still looking at Osamu like he just insulted his mother, when he only simply just dared question his ability to bake.

And of course, half of the chocolate ends up on the counter instead of inside the bowl. 

“You’re judging me,” he says before aggressively throwing the fallen chocolate _in_ the bowl this time.

When he puts the bowl over the stove, Osamu’s brain stops functioning.

“Konoha, you’re supposed to put the bowl on top of a pot of boiling water.”

“What.”

He pushes the beta aside to get closer, taking the bowl off the stove and taking a pot out of the shelves. 

“You put boiling water in this, and you put the bowl on the pot, so it melts with the heat of the steam, but doesn’t burn.”

“Mmmh.” _Sure, genius._ Why does he look at him like he just told him the earth is flat?

He goes back to the door, leaning on the door frame, and watches carefully as Konoha puts a wooden spoon in the bowl to start mixing the chocolate bits together. 

“And when it’s melted?”

“Then you put the bowl on a cold surface to help it cool down, like a floor tile.”

“Ahhh. Can you bring me a floor tile then please?” Osamu rolls his eyes and watches Konoha put the bowl on the floor, “and then?”

“You put butter in there,” he says.

This time Konoha manages to _stab the fucking butter_ without even cutting it in half.

Oh, that headache is definitely coming. 

“Good thing Akaashi has a good immune system, because the butter is laying bare on the counter,” Konoha states with too much neutrality for the fuckery he’s muttering. 

And he keeps stabbing the piece of butter that is indeed laying bare on the counter, instead of on its packaging. 

“Let me do this,” Osamu finally caves in, but Konoha points his butter knife at him, shaking it around.

“Don’t try to steal my butter.” 

“Okay, okay,” Osamu stares, and stares, at that melting butter on the counter, and sighs, and-

“Did you know I ate butter once?”

“So did I.”

“No, I mean I ate a whole block of butter. Then I was throwing up for a whole day.”

He finally puts half of the block of butter, without cutting it in bits, in the melted chocolate and turns around. 

“The egg now.”

Yes, the egg now.

Why did Sakusa abandon him here with this demon? Why did Akaashi go away?

Suddenly, sleeping with his _heat partner_ outside of his heats seems like a very remote concern, compared to the disaster that is _before-7-a.m.-on-a-Sunday_ Konoha Akinori. 

Osamu looks at his phone, scrolling through Twitter, insulting Atsumu in his DMs, until he hears Konoha screaming at the egg whites while beating them with a fork.

“Be delicate,” is the only thing Osamu says once he sees Konoha starting to _whisk_ the fluffy egg whites with the melted chocolate, but you know what? At this point? Fuck this shit.

Osamu goes back to his phone until Konoha puts the batter in the oven and asks him about _the topping_. 

And oh now, this is something that’s bringing him right back down to earth, really harshly, because _he’s definitely not the one who did the topping._ (So, what would he know about it?) (he ends up helping Konoha with the chocolate topping. It’s still a better distraction than his phone).

──

He’s not sure if he’s glad to hear Sakusa knocking on the door half an hour later. 

“Isn’t Akaashi with you?” Konoha asks after greeting the man with a polite smile.

Sakusa raises disgusted eyebrows at the naked chest of the pharmacist, but proceeds not to say anything about it. The gesture speaks loudly enough.

“He stayed at the Center, said Kai would drive him back here.”

“Oh, yeah, alright.”

“What happened?” Osamu can’t help but ask.

“Kozume’s neighbour, an omega, got attacked by an alpha she was sleeping with. She escaped and came to his place, but he didn’t know what to do, so he called Akaashi since he works at the Omega Center. We drove her there and then he told me I could leave. I don't know what happened after that.”

The Omega Center?

Considering the small amount of information he managed to gather about Akaashi's life, he only knew about his _normal_ job as a lawyer, but nothing about his involvement at the Center for Omegas in Need.

Not that it’s a problem or anything.

Well, it _is_ a problem.

Because Akaashi just _had_ to be kind and generous, and the type to sacrifice time and energy to help others. He just _had to_ be this perfect. Stupid Akaashi and his stupid pretty face and perfect heart. 

“Thank you for driving him,” Konoha says, and he nods, somehow more dignified in this entire gesture than Osamu has seen him for the past hour.

“It’s nothing,” Sakusa says with a neutral tone, but even Osamu can see he’s still pretty shaken by everything he saw. Maybe this explains the lack of commentary about Konoha’s lack of clothes.

“Well, I guess Akaashi will come back later. These things usually take a few hours to settle.”

“We have to get going, Atsumu is waiting for us,” Sakusa says with a pointed look towards Osamu that probably means _I need to rest, this was exhausting, don’t make me drag you home._

“Alright, well I will see you soon then? Osamu, do you have all your stuff?”

The alpha nods and takes his bag before following Sakusa to the door.

As soon as they’re alone in the street, standing in front of his car, Sakusa stops next to Osamu before opening the door, and their gazes clash across the roof of the black car.

“I don’t know who he is to you, what he is to you, but if you hurt him, I swear I will cut off all of your fingers.”

“I— Okay.”

Sakusa nods in understanding, a silent promise, and Osamu's face pales. It’s not that the other alpha isn’t usually menacing, he truly is terrifying. But Osamu's had almost a decade to get used to it. This voice though, the way his eyes grow cold and the burning tone. That’s unusual. It's a warning that comes with consequences. 

The drive home is silent. 

Until Osamu starts talking, and that’s probably one of these times when Sakusa realizes the twins really are made of the same mould: confident, dicky, annoying, but with an overflow of raw emotions that demand to be shared. 

“We’re _somehow_ heat partners.”

If Sakusa is surprised, he hides it well. But Atsumu would have recognized some serious shock in his eyes. Thankfully, his gaze is glued to the road, not allowing Osamu to read him.

“Mh.”

“Have been for almost a year now.”

He doesn’t mention that they only hooked up _twice_ because Akaashi’s heats are irregular, he doesn’t say that they didn't _acknowledge_ their status before last night. And even then, they did it between heated kisses, thoughts obviously elsewhere.

“Ah.” 

“I don’t know what to think.”

“He’s the one who— the one who pulled at your hair, right?” 

It's amusing to see, heart-warming even, to witness Sakusa actually caring about the twins, after all these years.

“He fucked me too.”

This time Sakusa cannot refrain his head from turning, to stare at Osamu for a second. Thank god, they’re stopped at a red light, because he would have crashed his car in a tree, had they been driving. 

“What? You’re the one who told me there was nothing wrong with my preferences!”

“There’s nothing wrong with your preferences,” Sakusa manages to blurt out. So, he really is surprised. 

“Well, the thing is, he wasn’t in heat yesterday.”

Sakusa hums, he would have smelled it, after all.

“And we had sex anyway,” Osamu continues.

“Figured.”

“So we don’t have his heat as an excuse.”

“Okay.”

“But I can’t- I can’t let myself fall into that shit again.”

“I see.”

They stop talking for a while, both staring at the road, lost deep in their thoughts. Until, surprisingly, it’s Sakusa who breaks the heavy silence, still looking ahead, never meeting Osamu’s eyes, even when he stops at a crossroad.

“Why are you scared of falling in love?” there’s something wise in his tone, like he’s waiting for an answer that would go beyond just his relationship with Akaashi.

“I don’t know,” Osamu admits, Semi still at the back of his mind, “why are _you_?”

Sakusa sighs,

“I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> so, they might be falling in love heh.  
> just so i put it somewhere, oikawa is a beta who takes hormones to smell like an alpha. i won't be talking about him a lot, so i just thought i'd say it here.
> 
> ive been reading your comments and i am SO HAPPY to read them, gods, they truly make my day!


	5. Chair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 27 yo is atsumu (rocking chair is sakusa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when i said there would be a smut scene in every chapter? it was a lie.  
> chap 5&6 were supposed to be one chapter, but then it ended up being +20k words and i had to surrender and cut it in half. but! since i wrote everything already, i should update again this week, on thursday or on friday just before i start drowning in age of calamity. yay! and to make up for my lies, there will be more than one smut scene in chap 6 (yes, this its just an excuse to put more smut scenes).
> 
> \- klaudia, i am riding sir tooru to go fight the 4th boss as im typing this note. pray for sir tooru. (update: sir tooru survived)
> 
>  **disclaimers** : for the political side of this fic, i didnt want to actually name names so i just made up everything and sprinkled everything with some personal anecdotes (we love to see that the world sucks no matter where u come from am i right????)
> 
> also i should warn you that this chapter contains some mild angst but not really, just a bit, you know; just a bit but i read mcds to feel alive so i might not be the best person to judge~  
> enjoy!!!

**CHAPTER 5.**

─✷─

_27-Year-Old Transforms Into Pensive, Weathered Sage Moments After Sitting In Rocking Chair_

by **Miya Osamu**

─✷─

_ september 2020 _

A mop of ugly-as-fuck pale blond hair lands on the kitchen counter. Osamu startles. No, Miya Atsumu hasn't been beheaded, the rest of his body is still very much attached to his head, crouched over the counter in a dramatic pose, forehead resting on dark granite.

Osamu slowly puts down his knife, turning his head towards his twin brother currently _face-countering_ next to him. He doesn’t have time (nor the will) to ask: Atsumu starts screaming against the counter anyway. 

“What is it this time?” Osamu finally asks, once the scream next to him has finally died down.

The more dramatic Atsumu is, the less worried Osamu is. Once, Atsumu came back home from university, eyes empty, almost silent when he closed the door; that’s when Osamu knew it wasn’t good news. But a loud Atsumu is an Atsumu who still has some control over the situation. It's not as bas as a silent Atsumu. 

“The opposition sent their trucks to three retirement homes, and to the hospital to make people who are- who don’t really _think for themselves_ anymore- agree to vote for them by proxy.”

_What an insensitive way to say things._

“That doesn’t sound very legal,” Osamu observes.

But at this point, after years of being the twin of Miya Atsumu, 20+, WHO employee slash young politician, Osamu isn’t really surprised anymore. Somehow, the law doesn’t seem to apply to these people.

“All is fair in love and politics, ‘Samu.”

Osamu rolls his eyes, goes back to his knife and his chicken breast. Atsumu isn’t going to send trucks to elderly homes _just yet,_ but his obsession with victory will make him do _dubious_ things in the future, they both know it. And after months of juggling between his work at the WKC and his political campaign to become a representative at the Hyōgo Prefectural Assembly, Osamu’s not even sure if all of this is even worth it anymore: the sleepless nights, the stress, the screams.

“You’ll vote for me, right?” 

Atsumu’s face doesn’t even leave the counter, but instead of resting on his forehead, it’s his cheek that is now touching the dark granite, very close to Osamu’s large knife.

“'m not sure.”

This almost makes his brother straighten up, but his eyes meet the blade of Osamu’s knife. His brain's visibly doing the maths: if he starts screaming in his brother’s ears again, he might get stabbed before he has the time to run.

“Come on!” he quietly whines, instead of screaming Osamu’s ears off.

“You have one week to convince me,” Osamu taunts him, gesturing towards him with a piece of chicken breast.

“You literally co-wrote half of my speeches!”

Yeah, thanks, no need to remind him how many _hours, sleepless nights,_ he spent (wasted) on Atsumu’s speeches, proofreading them, helping him memorize the lines, the words, the rhythm. He definitely should have made him pay him for this.

“Doesn’t mean I wanna see you win.”

His eyes are back on his chicken breasts; he doesn’t see Atsumu’s outraged face. 

At least this whole disaster brought Atsumu closer to Sakusa, who’s now the first recipient of his frustration, setting Osamu free from this role. He’s at least glad for that; he can still remember the day Atsumu came back from his first day at the WKC, eyes burning with rage _(‘You’ll never guess who is also working there.’ ‘No, but you’re going to tell me.’ ‘Sakusa Kiyoomi.’ ‘Saku- Itachiyama Sakusa Kiyoomi?’ ‘Yes, he’s working as a scientific there- oh god this is hell.’)_

The first time Atsumu brought Sakusa home was- interesting, to say the least.

None of them even remembers what happened that night; they were too drunk to care. Osamu on the other hand can still vividly remember the sight, the noises, the smell of the two alphas in a rut doing what they _had to do_ in the bedroom. The bedroom next to his.

This had been a whole new _experience_ in terms of insomnia _._

They never stopped hooking up since then, insisting that (quote) _it’s not a relationship_ (unquote). Except it totally is. 

> _‘Samu, can you cook tonight? Omi’s coming for dinner!’_
> 
> _‘Samu can you go sleep at Kita’s this weekend, my rut is coming’_
> 
> _‘Samu can you give me your purple hoodie? It’s Omi’s favourite colour!’_
> 
> _‘What do you think I should buy him for White Day?’_
> 
> _‘Samu, do you mind if he comes home with us for New Year’s?’_

(Doesn’t sound like _casual sex_ to him, but Atsumu's a hurricane and Sakusa is an earthquake, so he'd rather stay out of it for as long as he can.)

This entire circus has been lasting for two years now, and still ongoing. 

Frankly, it’s a pain to watch, and he remembers Kita promptly leaving just after the four of them went to the shrine on New Year’s last year because he _couldn’t handle the pining in their pheromones._ Osamu followed quickly after, going back to his parents' to enjoy some silence and a scent free environment. 

And if the two alphas had ended fucking somewhere in the forest behind the shrine- _well,_ he’s glad he doesn’t know anything about it.

“Why don’t we settle this the _Izumi_ way?” Atsumu finally asks, and Osamu freezes on the spot when he hears the name of their older sister. “If I win, you vote for me. If you win, I’ll do the dishes for a month.”

Osamu has to think for a second; but it’s not like he can refuse anyway, not if he wants to keep his honour intact. He throws a large grin at Atsumu who shivers at the sight.

“And you’ll spend your next rut at Sakusa’s,” Osamu bargains.

Atsumu grimaces, clearly not liking this deal, at all. He sighs, sighs again. ( _You know I won't care if you sigh a third time,_ _fucker_ ). But he finally nods anyway. 

“Okay, deal.”

He’s really that desperate. 

The chicken is carefully left in the fridge, and Osamu’s drying his hands when Atsumu comes back from his bedroom with a plastic bow and a dozen orange arrows with small suction cups as arrowheads. Their eyes meet before he goes to hide behind the couch.

“Very brave,” Osamu comments, walking towards his bedroom to retrieve his own weapon. He comes back with his a cheap plastic replica of MARVEL Thor’s hammer. It’s his sixth fake _Mjöllnir_ , if he recalls correctly, but its weight (or the lack of it) still feels familiar in his hand. 

He goes to hide behind the kitchen counter. 

The rules have been established years ago, back when they were still kids, still living with their parents, still living with Izumi. What started as a game to make them use their _alpha instincts_ now became a ritual in case of disagreement. (Now that he thinks about it, their parents may have introduced them to _physical fights_ in the hope they would both turn out to be alphas. Real healthy. Yeah.).

“You know what Izumi always says,” Osamu teases.

“ _Don’t bring a bow to a hammer fight,_ ” Atsumu answers with a mocking, high-pitched voice, badly imitating their sister.

Although three years older than them, she’s the one who pushed them to ‘upgrade their fighting style’, giving them their first plastic weapons for their eighth birthday. 

After that, they stopped wrestling to settle arguments. 

After that, they had to plan ahead, to train to master their weapons;

Especially after their fourteenth birthday, and Atsumu came back from practice later than Osamu, screaming that he no longer liked his sword, that he wanted _a bow and arrows._ Osamu quickly followed, deciding that he wanted a hammer like the one Izumi used to fight with when she got into playful fights with them, back when she used to be a kid too (and not 17, age of her _holier than thou_ attitude).

He grips his hammer tightly, and starts walking to the other end of the counter, hoping Atsumu doesn’t hear him moving from the other side of the room. He only has one spot where he can hide before aiming for the couch: the kitchen table. 

One hit is enough to win.

Meaning, he only has to touch Atsumu with his hammer once to win.

But Atsumu only has to throw one arrow at him to win. 

One arrow out of twelve.

Which means, in the current situation, Atsumu has the upper hand. 

Unless Osamu manages to reach the kitchen table. Then he'll only have to go to the other side of the couch and throw his hammer at Atsumu’s head.

_Easy peasy._

He takes a deep breath and runs towards the table, hiding behind it. Atsumu doesn’t stand up to try to shoot him. Maybe he hasn’t heard him. Osamu lets out a small breath before launching his body through the empty space between the table and the back of the couch. 

This time Atsumu stands up, draws his bow, and the arrow is already flying through the air when Osamu starts running. He's aiming at him with the precision of his former service aces.

But Osamu’s nothing but the first and best receiver of his twin’s services. If there is one person who can predict his brother’s movements, it's _him._ So, he decides at the very last moment to run towards the furthest end of the couch instead of the closest one, slightly adapting his trajectory, just enough for the arrow to land next to his leg. On the floor.

“You fucking suck,” he says, standing up, aiming his hammer at Atsumu’s face.

He barely hits his brother’s forehead with his divine weapon, but touches it hard enough for him to feel the burn of defeat. 

“Bow before your new master,” Osamu orders.

“I despise you.”

“Hope you’ll enjoy spending your rut with Komori listening to you. He'll be happy to record everything and make it his new ringtone.”

Osamu _loves_ Komori.

“I should have eaten you in the womb,” Atsumu curses.

“Izumi was right.”

“Shut up.”

Osamu laughs, and starts walking away, taking _Mjöllnir 6.0_ with him.

_“Don’t bring a bow to a-”_

Then, something hits him, right between his shoulder blades, before he hears a quiet _tump_ , when the plastic arrow falls on the floor.

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll wash the dishes with cold water,” Atsumu threatens, a new arrow ready to be thrown at Osamu.

“You'll be the one explaining the stains to your boyfriend then.”

“He’s not-”

“He’s not your _boyfriend_ , yeah.”

Osamu rolls his eyes, takes the arrow from the floor and throws it lazily at Atsumu, who avoids it with _delicacy_ and _grace._

“You know, I was going to vote for you anyway. Because I think your program is neat. But this is a good reminder that you shouldn’t try to force people to vote for you.”

“Getting all philosophical with me 'samu?”

“Just trying to keep you away from legal problems in the future.”

He really hopes this is not a foreshadowing of some sort.

──

Contrary to popular belief, Atsumu has never been strictly above begging. Force has always been his first answer: a true alpha who had been raised like one. But he knows he would lose another _hammer v. bow_ battle against his brother. So, he simply eyes him, puss-in-boots style.

“No one’s available, and I think it would be sending a strong message to students in the district.”

“So you want _me_ to come with you?”

Osamu never saw the appeal in politics, or at least, he's never been interested in the perspective of becoming a politician. He’s happy enough to help his brother, to come with him in the ULGL truck to scream at the top of his lungs, driving in the entire district to convince people to vote for him. 

But he never meant to become the _face_ of his brother’s political fight. 

Well, it's too late now anyway, because _someone_ with almost identical facial features decided to run for Prefectural elections without asking for his permission. (Would that count as some sort of immoral use of one’s image? Maybe he should ask Akaashi) (Not that he ever thought about it) (He’d rather ask him _‘how to kill your brother without ending up in prison?’_ )

“Come on, we are alpha twins who want to help omegas in distress. It’s _dramatic._ The press will love it!”

“You just don’t want to go there alone because you’re scared of what you’re going to see,” Osamu sighs.

Atsumu looks at him with a stern expression. 

“Untrue.”

“If you wanted to speak to the students, you’d promise funding for the University, something related to their mental health, or something like that.”

“Is it that bad that I want to do something right and not _too_ manipulative for once?”

“So you _are_ interested in what’s happening to omegas,” Osamu gasps, looking at him funny.

“I-”

“What happened?” he asks, eyes serious on Atsumu’s fleeing face.

“Nothing,” he blurts out, _way too fast._

“Atsumu.”

“I- He- _Omi_ just- he told me what happened after Konoha’s birthday.”

Osamu can only stare harder. His internal voice starts screaming; _Sakusa told him about his arrangement with Akaashi?_ Of course, he didn’t tell him _not_ to tell Atsumu, but he thought it was a silent understanding between them. 

“And I don’t think I’ll be able to ever look at Akaashi in the eyes ever again-”

_Wait what?_

He still speaks to Sakusa despite having seen his _dick_ at least three times. So, why would his sexual life influence Atsumu so much that he wouldn’t even look at Akaashi-

“-if I didn’t do something for the Omega Center.” 

_Ah._

“He talked to me about what happened, told me about that young omega Akaashi helped; the way he never- _never_ pitied her, considered her a human, always looked at her as an equal- took her seriously; and I realized I never actually did that. I mean, sure I see them as humans, but I’m always like _‘oh you’re an omega, here let me help you’_ without trying to dig further into it- He just made me realize I didn’t care enough about the specific struggles of omegas. He just- he earned Sakusa’s respect in a one-hour trip.”

Yeah, Osamu indeed remembers the fire in the other alpha’s eyes.

“And Akaashi has made Sakusa _feel stuff._ ”

Osamu raises his eyebrows. 

“Even _I_ can’t do that!” 

His brother is even more of an idiot that he suspected.

“So, I think- I should help them. Promise I'll help in the future if I get elected- you know.”

“You know you could have said that before, asshole.”

Apparently, Osamu’s not the only one having a hard time accepting his lack of alpha-coded behaviour. 

Getting penetrated by another alpha is one thing that Atsumu's had his crisis over a few years ago. They navigated through it together like they always did (in a chaotic way, perhaps even violent, but that ended up being _okay_ ). 

Getting penetrated by an omega is still something Osamu has to deal with, has to process and accept. But he’ll get there eventually. It’s sexual. It’s private. Given enough time, they can both talk about what’s happening in their bedroom (in a more or less crude way). 

But feeling stuff, talking about emotions, especially in a casual way (read: not when he’s on verge of a panic attack), has never been something they'd do, or even think about doing. Because it's never been their place: omegas feel, cry, beg. Alphas are strong, mature, cold or burning but never pliant.

 _‘The press will love it’_ is never a reason. Not for Atsumu, even as obnoxious as he is. But it’s a good excuse that matches with the fact that he’s an alpha: made to seduce, to lead, to convince. 

Anyone could tell Miya Atsumu is a textbook case of what an alpha should be.

And yet, he gets fucked by another alpha; the first crack in a very flawed code.

“I-” Atsumu starts, but Osamu interrupts him with a shrug. 

Atsumu’s not the only one who doesn’t like to speak about his feelings. Maybe Sakusa is the one who ends up being the most in sync with his emotions out of the three of them. That’s saying something.

“Never mind. I’ll come with you. But don’t try to bullshit me again.”

“I’m a politician, bullshitting is what I do,” Atsumu bats his eyes with a smirk.

──

The building looks just like Osamu imagined: already falling apart after decades of existing with little to no funding. The automatic doors open to let them in. It’s only the two of them and Atsumu’s social media manager, Hanamaki, so it doesn’t look like they’re here for important matters. 

“Good morning, how can I help you?” _Nishinoya Yuu_ greets them from behind the reception desk, before looking at them, his eyes growing wide, “Miya Atsumu?” 

“Nishinoya,” he nods with a polite smile, and Osamu can feel the room get colder in an instant, “it’s been a while.”

“Yeah. What can I do for you?”

“I have an appointment with the director.”

Nishinoya only has to call the director twice before she appears, eyes serious and smile looking almost _cruel._ Osamu can definitely see himself having a crush on that woman. Especially since she's going to completely devour Atsumu _._ But there’s also something calm in her behaviour, that reminds him of someone. And the smell, it's familiar, takes his mind back to a crowded gymnasium-

“Kageyama Miwa,” she introduces herself, shaking Atsumu’s hand first, then Hanamaki’s, and finally Osamu’s, “nice to meet you.”

Atsumu starts chatting with her, and he acts more like the brother Osamu knows than the _politician_ he usually becomes in situations like that. 

This whole thing _did_ become personal. 

The power Sakusa Kiooymi has on Atsumu. Astonishing.

“I’ll stay here,” he naturally says when Kageyama announces that she only has two seats in her office, and that she’d like to discuss _confidential_ matters. He got used to it after a while, realized he doesn’t need (doesn’t want) the spotlights to be on him anymore. 

“Okay.” 

He takes a seat in the waiting room, not necessarily wanting to bother Nishinoya with his presence. The building is quiet, apart from the sound of people walking from one room to the other, he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling down his Twitter feed.

Until the door opens. 

A man with light brown hair enters, politely nods at Osamu and sits on the other side of the waiting room. He only stares at the floor, apparently not interested in any form of distraction. _Distress?_ Osamu tries to discreetly sniff the air, but the man obviously knows how to hide his scent, which isn’t something rare nowadays anyway. His guess is that he’s an omega, but considering the place, it’s not really a hard guess. 

Osamu finally goes back to his phone.

Until the door opens once again.

This time, his phone falls on the floor. 

“Eita?”

“Osamu.”

Time stops for a second, and it feels like his heart is going to jump out of his thorax, too heavy to physically stay there, too painful. And instantly, months, years of loneliness wash over him, years of absence, emptiness, and, at the back of this rush of emotions, a little flicker of _hope,_ hope to fix it, hope to start over, hope to win, to prove, to forgive and forget. 

He’s here, and he can finally say all the things he’s always wanted to tell him.

“Are you alright?” is the only thing he comes up with, when his throat somehow manages to relax, allowing air to pass through his lips, the sound ripping through his clenched teeth. 

“Yeah.”

 _Why are you here then?_ is the silent question that Semi doesn’t have to hear to understand. 

They look at each other for a while, silent, trying to find the right words (Osamu), wishing he was somewhere else (Semi). But the omega ends up being saved from the awkward situation when the door opens again.

“Semi, Shirabu.”

“Good afternoon, Akaashi,” the other man, _Shirabu,_ answers, standing up to go stand next to Semi.

He nods at Osamu again, but the alpha doesn’t even see him, too busy trying to _process_ what is happening;

“Osamu?” Akaashi’s worried voice reaches his ears (immediately), his brain (slowly), “are you alright?” 

_No. No, I’m not._

“I- I’m here with Atsumu for- work stuff.”

“Oh. Okay, you don’t need help then?”

“No, I’m only waiting for him to come back from Kageyama’s office.”

“Alright then.”

He doesn’t see Akaashi’s smile, doesn’t notice Shirabu’s worried look, only comes back to feeling _half_ alive when his eyes meet Semi’s, and when the grey-haired man finally throws six words at him.

“It was nice seeing you again.”

“Likewise,” he mumbles, looking away.

_Real strong, ‘Samu._

If Akaashi notices something, he doesn’t show it, pointing at the hallway for the two omegas to follow him, probably to lead them to his office.

_WHATTHEHELL._

He takes his phone from the floor, only then noticing that it’s still there, and sends a quick text to Atsumu, trying to make the overflow of feelings wash away.

┌────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_Semi is here, send help._

└────────────────┘

Atsumu doesn’t answer. Of course not, he’s too busy. 

Miya Osamu is not a regular victim of panic attacks. His anxiety is something he always managed to more or less control. But he’s seen Atsumu suffer through plenty of them over the years, knows how to handle them from an outsider’s perspective. 

_Breathe._

_One to seven._

_Hold._

_One to five._

_Let all the air out._

_One to seven._

_Repeat._

But he soon realizes it’s not _panic_ he’s feeling, it’s not anxiety, it’s not walls closing around him, not swirling thoughts crashing through his brain.

No.

His thoughts are clear, loud: _it fucking hurts, make it stop._ Yeah, they’re loud and clear. It’s not panic. It’s blinding pain that runs through his chest, burns his guts, makes it really hard for him to breathe. 

It looks like panic, but deep down, he knows it isn’t. 

Because panic attacks go away eventually, they can be controlled, tuned down, avoided even, if you’re familiar enough to recognize the signs. But heartbreaks can’t be controlled, can’t be avoided, can’t be tamed. It just hurts. And they last for what feels like forever.

He thought that after years of not being together anymore (not that they ever truly _were_ ), of not seeing each other, it would be _okay._ He thought he had gone through the six stages of separation.

**_**01**. You think the worst is a broken heart. _ **

He remembers, still, when Semi told him they shouldn’t see each other anymore, even for his heats, and certainly not outside of them. 

He remembers, still, laying on his bed, laying on Atsumu’s bed, feeling like his whole body was split in two, like his heart was laying bare, next to him, instead of _inside_ his chest. 

He remembers, the sleepless nights, the screams he let out in his pillows, the rage, the anger, the resentment, the despair. Never in his life had he lived through such pain, and he played volleyball in high school for a powerhouse at a national level, so he knows one thing or two about pain. No, this pain was mental, emotional, and became physical because of these invisible internal wounds. 

He remembers showering once a week, saying he was too sick to move, remembers his own reflection, his bloodshed eyes, remembers Atsumu’s worried look, the weight loss, the soundless screams, the nightmares-

**_**02**. What’s going to kill you is the second part. _ **

And just when he thought he was back on wobbly feet, he fell again, trying to live like he wasn’t completely destroyed. 

And suddenly everything and anything reminded him of Semi, of the few moments they had spent together, of the two past years. Everything, from the smell of coffee to the sight of a grey jumper. 

He thought being unable to move because of sheer pain was the worst part, but trying to pull himself back up again was, with no doubt, harder. 

He felt only emptiness, loss, despair, cries for help, _please fill me- with whatever comes- take me back, don’t let me be empty-_ it’s pathetic, unglamorous. But he would have done anything just for Semi to just give him some crumbs to fill _the void._

Someone who's never been through heartbreak, someone who's never been left with no apparent reason other than _I don’t like you anymore (not even LOVE._ **_LIKE._** ) would fail to understand. 

Osamu pulled himself back together, fought the need to throw up each time he smelled coffee, fought the will to stay in bed all weekend, fought the dark ideas at the back of his head. 

Contrary to Atsumu, nights had always been his favourite time of the day. Quiet hours, blue lights, under a moon who would keep his secrets. Suddenly, he couldn't bring himself to even like nights anymore: if days were filled with vivid memories, nights were filled with quiet dreams, crushed hopes, never-ending nightmares, with whirling thoughts and surrounding silence, freezing emptiness. 

What used to be an endless circle of pain slowly became a circle of _getting better_ than _falling again_. Pulling himself back up in the morning to fall apart from always higher grounds at night. 

It lasted for months.

**_**03**. When your world splits down in the middle. _ **

But you get used to the pain, you get used to the emptiness, you start filling it with other things. 

And suddenly you change. 

There’s the Osamu he used to be back when he was still loved _(liked)_ , still with Semi, and the new Osamu, who was alone, full of hate and hope. 

_He was toxic,_ he sometimes tells himself, and all his friends agree.

But the old Osamu knows, deep down, that it’s a lie. And what if Osamu was the toxic one? (‘ _You’ll always be a toxic person to someone’,_ Kita had said, _‘let yourself hate, let yourself grieve, and once you’re you again, you will see if this hatred was deserved.’_ ) 

He doesn’t know if he liked the old Osamu better. 

But the sure thing is: he doesn’t have a choice. He's never coming back.

And so, he starts moving on. 

**_**04**. You’re gonna think that you fixed yourself. _ **

And moving on, he does. Starts teaching, starts helping Atsumu with his campaign, starts going out again, meets with Sakusa in secret to plan Atsumu’s birthday party. 

He even hooks up with some betas; not omegas though, never omegas. He starts working out again, eating three meals a day again, starts drinking coffee again, instead of just smelling it just _for the sake of memories._

He starts living again. 

Eventually, he meets Akaashi, and something he hasn’t felt in three years comes tingling under his skin: the need to fill the empty places in his heart.

**_**05**. You see them out with someone else. _ **

But that’s where everything crumbles down. 

“Thank you, Akaashi,” he hears Semi’s collected voice through the open door of the waiting room.

“You’re welcome, and as I said, if you want to join the Center’s group of adopting parents, I can give you the date of the next session when it’s settled.”

_Adopting parents?_

“We’d like that very much,” Shirabu answers.

 _Adopting PARENTS?_ Since when was Semi becoming a father?

Osamu blinks, puts his phone back in his pocket, and it’s like his blood has turned to ice, his whole body sweaty from his nerves being overheated.

Grieving for years and for what? He's a useless joke.

“Osamu?” Hanamaki finally appears through the door and Osamu internally groans, both in relief and dread. Semi and Shirabu are still there, he’ll have to cross their path again.

_Thanks, but no thanks._

This is a disaster.

“Akaashi!” Atsumu’s voice comes from behind Hanamki at the same time Osamu rolls his eyes, “and- Eita. Good afternoon.”

This is _definitely_ a disaster.

“Good afternoon, Atsumu,” Semi replies, obviously trying hard to remain calm and polite.

And even years later, Osamu can still identify the tension in his voice.

“Good afternoon, Atsumu,” Akaashi breaks the awkward silence at the same time Osamu and Hanamaki finally leave the waiting room.

When blue eyes meet grey, and Akaashi’s eyes meet his, when the omega smiles tiredly at him, he could have sworn all his thoughts about still being in love with Semi feels like a lie.

Maybe, just maybe, he _had_ been moving on all along, after all.

Maybe, he needed that, maybe he lived through the worst, until this day, when it would come to hurt him one last time before setting him free; when he finally could finally bury his own demons (anger, resentment, loneliness, frustration, hope) to rest.

“I wanted to speak with you about some- stuff,” Atsumu says, unaware of the silent exchange going on between Osamu and Akaashi, but very obviously not happy about Semi’s presence here.

“Yes of course, make an appointment with Nishinoya, I’m busy today, but I’d be happy to discuss whatever you want to talk to me about.”

“Thank you.”

“Or we could meet for lunch one day-”

They keep talking about their busy schedules (and _why the hell is Atsumu grinning at Akaashi like that?_ ), politely smiling at each other, as if they hadn’t been drunkenly playing _Twister_ together a few weeks ago. 

“Osamu?” Semi manages to discreetly come next to him, his hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor.

“Yeah?”

“How have you been?”

“I’m good,” Osamu smiles weakly, but surprisingly, it’s sincere, truly sincere, “what about you?”

“I’m good, I’m good.”

**_**06**. When you admit that you may have fucked up a little._ **

And maybe, they really don’t have anything to say to each other anymore. 

Maybe he fell in love with the Semi he used to have sex with, as a heat partner, as an omega, without really caring about who he was as a person. 

Maybe, he never truly cared about Semi at all, maybe he only cared about being loved, maybe he only cared about having an omega.

And maybe, he ended up being the bad one, the toxic one.

Maybe it was time to own up to his mistakes, not for Semi (he didn’t care much back then, probably still doesn’t as of today), but for himself, and maybe, just a little, for Akaashi. 

Shirabu puts his arm around Semi’s waist to guide him towards the exit, and somehow, Osamu finds himself accepting it. He walks in the opposite direction, joining Atsumu, walks towards Hanamaki, and more importantly, smiles at Akaashi, a secret smile for only him to see.

After three years, he can now finally say with confidence, that he’s more than just a broken heart.

──

_october 2020_

It takes a few days before he finds the courage to finally face what’s about to come. 

After his laptop magically decided to cease functioning, Osamu has to admit his defeat and finally surrender: it is now time to get a new one. But there is _one_ thing that worries him more than having to set up the entire new device: he still has to transfer his old files from one laptop to the other. 

Osamu never clears his files, never deletes any of them (you never know when an obscure jpeg screenshot might come in handy). He only takes a look at them when he must (read: when he has to get a new laptop, or a new phone). Then, he finally takes one entire day to delete useless files, and organize the remaining survivors.

Four years after his last cleaning spree, he now has to face this shit again, and has to throw his mind back into the past. 

For the first time, it scares him more than usual. It's not just the annoying process of having to spend hours sorting thousands of files that makes him shiver. It's about what he'll have to look at.

He deals with the written documents first: articles, notes, important documents, it’s mechanical, and doesn't require much emotional strength. He smiles at some recommendation letters, deletes old bills, deletes the online books he ended up not liking ( _moderato cantabile_ gets deleted without one last look).

He deletes the ten downloaded songs he still has on there, takes a deep breath. 

_Now, time for the serious stuff._

He clicks on the ‘Pictures’ folder and braces himself for what he knows he’s about to see.

He’s glad he at least had the moral maturity to not just paste all his pictures in the _Pictures_ folder. No, younger Osamu was smart. He created a whole _‘Semi’_ folder that he had declared not to be touched, looked at, or even thought about, three years ago. 

Time to break that promise. 

He clicks on it. 

Holds his breath.

Why didn’t his younger self simply delete the entire folder when the two of them broke up?

Would have made things much easier.

But somehow, he knows he needs this, needs to prove to himself that he can do this, for closure, to get rid of the emotional baggage, throw it off at sea, for the seagulls to shit on and the sharks to rip into pieces.

Osamu looks at the first pictures, from back when they started to hook up: screenshots of maps, formal text messages.

(He clicks delete). 

The next ones are more personal. Semi in the bed of his old flat, skin covered in love bites, Semi in his kitchen, smiling with two mugs of coffee in hand. A dozen pictures of Semi taken during the fourth unplanned heat they spent together, the first intimate one, that didn’t consist of simple _fucking._ He can still remember how good it felt, to be needed, to give an omega- _his_ omega at that time- what he was begging for.

Call it instincts, or nature, but he used to believe this was love.

(He clicks delete). 

The next pictures include the ones he took on various dates, here in Hyōgo, in Tokyo, in Miyagi. He grimaces, heart heavy, eyes slightly burning.

(He clicks delete). 

He ends up deleting two years worth of memories, two years he had spent three years avoiding. 

And it feels right. Even the pain feels right. It feels like freedom, like the last excruciating meters before the finish line.

“Hey look at th- what are you doing?”

┌───────────────────────┐

Are you sure you want to permanently delete this folder?

_‘Semi’_

Date created: 15/03/2016 16:33

└───────────────────────┘

Two years worth of memories, gone in the span of two hours. The only thing that now remains is an empty folder. He clicks on ‘ _yes’._

Osamu ignores his brother’s question, not sure he’s ready to deal with it right now. Instead, he takes the phone Atsumu is handing him with obviously faked interest. 

┌───────────────────────┐

For his last public appearance, Miya Atsumu chose the Center for Omegas in Need. A bold choice that sends a clear message from the ULGL candidate. Miya Atsumu is the youngest candidate running for the Hyōgo Prefectural Assembly.

└───────────────────────┘

There’s a picture of Atsumu with Kageyama Miwa both standing in her office, and quotes of the post he made on social media a few days ago. It would be his last public appearance as a candidate before the elections. 

“Didn’t you want to make your last appearance at the University?” Osamu asks, his eyes rapidly scanning through the quite boring article. 

“I wanted to- at first. Then Akaashi happened. What’s his deal with Semi, by the way?”

“I think he’s adopting a child with his partner,” Osamu replies, his voice as detached as he can manage. 

It’s successful, to be fair.

Somewhere, far away, champagne corks are popping away; angels are crying; Miya Osamu managed to talk about Semi without feeling like his heart's leaving his chest. 

He’s still surprised about that all adoption thing, though. Semi never seemed to be interested in having kids, back when they were together. But once again, he's only slowly realizing how much he actually didn’t know about his former partner. 

What were his dreams, his fears, his aspirations for the future?

Maybe he didn’t even know him at all. 

“Explains the whole deleting pictures.”

“Yeah.”

Osamu looks at the remaining folders he still has to sort out and sighs.

“It’s going to take me all night, you don’t have to stand here like an idiot, I’m okay.”

“Oooooooooh, don’t be such a dickhead.”

“I swear I'm okay, 'tsumu. I should have done this before, but now life’s finally forcing me to doo it.” 

Who even wants to have pictures of their ex on their new laptop three years after their breakup? No one.

Especially not if the guy’s going to become a father.

He opens the folder named _‘Family’_ and quickly looks at the different sub-folders, decides he’s going to keep them all, switches to the next one.

 _‘_ _Atsumu’_ it says.

He quickly looks at his brother who's staring at the screen with burning curiosity.

“What’s in there?”

“Nothing.”

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Show meeeee.”

“No.”

“I’ll hack into your computer. Or I’ll pay Hanamaki to do it. Or maybe I'll just ask him to do it.”

“It’s just ugly pictures of you for your wedding with Sakusa.”

“We’re not getting married.”

“Yet.”

“Ew, no. Never. Leave me alone,” Atsumu whines and finally starts walking away.

Funny how the easiest way to make him leave is to talk about Sakusa, when he used to be _so happy_ about any possibility to talk about the other alpha, both as a nuisance and his eternal crush.

They know his grimace is as much about the legal impossibility for them to get married as their total unwillingness to do so anyway.

Weddings are for mixed couples or between betas, but never strictly between alphas or omegas. It’s probably the only occurrence where alphas and omegas are equals in their unfair situation.

And even then, alphas have the possibility to get their partnership recognized by the city through a partnership certificate. Not as powerful as a marriage, but still strong enough to make life easier. 

A chance omega couples do not enjoy. 

He keeps the _‘Food’_ folder, the _‘Kermit memes’_ folder, the _‘Graduation’_ folder and the _‘Inarizaki’_ folder.

His cursor hovers over the _‘Selfies’_ folder. 

He knows he should delete the selfies he’s never going to use, instead of keeping ten photos of him from the same 5-minute selfie session he goes through each time he wants to change his profile picture on Twitter. He probably has thousands of pictures of himself in there. 

_And they call Atsumu the narcissistic one._

He clicks on the folder, promptly deletes the most recent pictures of him with his mouth wide open to see if he has any cavity, keeps the ones Atsumu took of him eating frog legs in Paris during their last trip there, keeps the ones he considers _good enough_ , deletes some others. The pictures parade in front of his eyes, and he spends too many minutes trying to decide which one is the best between two almost identical pictures. 

Until the first picture of _that time_ comes up. 

Of course, he noticed the total absence of pictures of himself for approximately six months, the six months he spent moping in his bed, at his desk, wishing he could just disappear (and somehow, somehow, he thinks he did; there’s probably almost no trace of his existence at that time: no social media posts, almost no texts, no receipts, no browser history. He truly vanished from the face of the earth, only going from his bed to his desk to try to write some interesting stuff for his dissertation before going back to bed; if someone stops leaving proof of their existence, do they stop existing altogether?)

So when he goes from his first selfie after a long time (a picture of him with Kita and Atsumu, little ducklings wobbling all around them in the middle of a rice field), he knows what’s coming, but doesn’t really know how to get ready for it.

These are pictures of him, mostly. Of course, it’s a _selfies_ folder after all. But his younger self has a wide grin, bright eyes and clear skin. More importantly, he looks _happy,_ he looks relaxed, and the candid pictures he finds there show a version of him he knows doesn’t exist anymore, will never exist again.

Not that he can’t be happy: he was happy on the picture with Kita, but he’ll never be happy _like that_ ever again. 

Because his heart got broken, because he learned things, about others, about himself. Doesn’t mean he can’t get _happier,_ but it won’t be the same. Not really.

And as he goes through the pictures, going from the last one Semi ever took of him, to the first one, he can witness, in the ones he finds in the middle, all the love someone can put in the single action of taking a picture. 

Of course, there are the pictures of him smiling, when he’s sitting outside, on a blanket in the grass, in the middle of a park, and they’re on a date, eating ice cream for dinner because Semi never eats much. But what catches his attention are the more quiet pictures, the ones where he's sleeping, taken with so much affection, it’s almost _visible_ on the screen; the ones where he’s reading, drinking coffee, eating breakfast; the ones where he’s working, or simply living, like his mere existence's a work of art.

He’s not looking at the lens, and yet, Semi still thought it was worth immortalizing. 

Maybe they really were in love, after all.

Maybe just not the right way. 

_‘Maybe it’s just not the right time for us, Osamu’_ Semi told him when he broke up with him;

_‘Maybe we’ll find each other back one day, and we’ll get another chance.’_

Such a cowardly way to leave, the right person, wrong time excuse. _‘It’s not you, but it’s not me either. It’s just life.’_

And for a long time, he hated Semi for it, for the hope, the cruelty of that slightly open door.

Today though, today is the day he realizes Semi was wrong, that they never had a _‘right person, wrong time’_ kind of relationship.

After going down bitter memory lane, the truth is, they were a _‘wrong person, right time’_ kind of love, the one that only happens when stars align in your favour and offers you an unnecessary amount of love that would have felt wrong, had it happened at any other time, in any other way.

Maybe, in an infinite number of possibilities, Semi and him were granted with the only one that would allow them to be together, at least for a moment. 

He smiles and creates a new folder, he types _‘Semi’,_ pastes all the pictures Semi took of him in it, and moves on to the seven hundred selfies he took during his student years.

──

It’s the third day of October, and they were up at eight a.m. to cast their vote.

Of course, Osamu writes Atsumu’s name on the blank ballot paper. He promised him he’d do that. As much as he would have liked his brother to have a little _less energy-voracious_ activity, there’s no denying that he’s infinitely proud of him.

They went home after that, just the two of them, to watch anything but the news. The results won’t be published before eight p.m. and Atsumu is already pacing in front of the TV. Which, he can’t blame him for.

After spending years working in the shadow of older politicians, it’s finally the time for him to show everyone that he is just as strong as the white-haired candidates; show them that he’s just as deserving as any other boot-licker alpha with six past mandates. 

“Sit down, you won’t be able to stand on the scene for your speech if you win.”

“ _When_ I win.”

“Yeah.”

Atsumu comes to sit next to him, his phone still attached to his hand, as if his colleagues were going to call him to give him the results right now. 

──

It’s seven p.m. when they arrive at the ULGL headquarters where most of the other candidates are already waiting for the results. Hanamaki is there to greet them as soon as they arrive, smiling tiredly at them, his dark circles contrasting with the paleness of his skin. Atsumu better give him a week off after all this. Oikawa is there too, chatting with his high school friend, before he approaches Atsumu with a wide smile and open arms.

“Atsumu! How are you feeling, dear?”

He wraps one arm around the blond’s shoulder, and manages to drag him towards the middle of the room to do whatever the fuck politicians and people who think networking is a cool activity usually do when they meet. 

The headquarters are already decorated to celebrate victory. They don’t know how many seats they’ll win exactly yet; but they’ll win some. Some candidates are already smiling, knowing they’re going to get their seat. They’ve been elected for years now; their district is loyal to them, others don’t stand a chance. They’re smiling with calm confidence, not so far from arrogance. 

“Nervous?” a voice next to him asks.

Osamu didn’t even notice someone approaching. But the scent, the voice, everything is familiar: he doesn’t even flinch.

“A bit. But I think he can do it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he can.”

“How are you?” 

Suna shrugs, lazily bringing his glass of champagne to his lips.

“I’m okay. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“I heard he wanted to help the Omega Center.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I think he's honest about it.”

He looks at him over his glass, trying to convey how _certain_ he is, and Suna laughs bitterly.

“If you say so.”

Rocky relationship, those two have. Both Suna and Osamu and Suna and Atsumu, now that he thinks about it.

It’s _complicated._ The type of _complicated_ that comes from playing in a team full of alphas when you’re an omega. Thankfully, they’re now past the usual awkwardness that comes with seeing your twin brother’s first boyfriend- the only omega, though. Thankfully, they quickly bounced back after that disastrous relationship. They even managed to go back to being sort-of friends. 

Sometimes, though, Osamu still can’t help but take his sarky remarks personally, can’t help but think it’s a sign of ancient resentment. He can't really blame him for it, though.

┌───────────────────────┐

 **ULGL** : 43 seats.

└───────────────────────┘

The numbers are now appearing on the TV screens, in the middle of the main room. Unsurprisingly, they’re still the largest group elected in the assembly, but once again, can’t seem to win a majority of seats. 

“We’ll have to convince other parties to form a coalition again,” Osamu hears one man next to him complain.

He’s still sitting next to Suna who, just like him, is currently checking Atsumu’s status. 

┌───────────────────────┐

**Miya Atsumu**

Elected (38%) - Nada ward, Kōbe.

└───────────────────────┘

“Fuck.”

He lets out that breath, the one he’s been holding since this hectic campaign started a few months ago, after Atsumu’s mentor told him he could win the elections if he really wanted to. 

“Can’t believe this jerk is actually going to represent a whole district at the assembly,” Suna says, but even he can’t hide his smile as he scans the room, looking for Atsumu. 

──

“Congrats,” Osamu tells him; he’s not crying.

But it’s not far from it. 

Okay, now maybe he’s glad they never managed to win at nationals, because Atsumu is way too ugly when he’s crying in public, when he’s trying to hide it, and Osamu must look at least as pathetic as his brother. 

So yeah, not winning at nationals might have been a good thing for their alpha-esque dignity.

And if Atsumu had any dignity left, it leaves his body as soon as his eyes find Sakusa in the crowd. It’s subtle, and apart from Suna and himself, Osamu doubts anyone noticed anything. But it’s there, and if Sakusa had been looking, he would have seen it too. 

It’s about the way his shoulders relax, the way his smile brightens and his lips start to shake a bit more, the way his whole body turns towards the other alpha, probably unconsciously- 

His whole world finds a whole new axis as soon as Sakusa comes near him, and if Sakusa doesn’t see it, then he’s probably the biggest fool Osamu has ever met.

──

Everything looks a bit blurry around him when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket, a few hours later. It's the euphoria that makes him feel like he's walking on fluffy whipped cream.

──

┌──────────────────┐

**Unknown number**

_Good evening, it’s Akaashi._

_I got your number from Aran._

_Are you free right now?  
_

└──────────────────┘

He sighs, stares at his phone, looks at Atsumu who’s now clearly too drunk to remember his own name (bless him).

He still remembers Sakusa’s, though. 

“Kiyoomi?” Osamu asks, coming up to meet them where they’re seated, too close to the bar, considering Atsumu’s state.

“Hm.”

“Akaashi's going into heat.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Atsumu,” he simply replies with a shrug, and Osamu has never been more grateful for the ability of his _kind-of-brother-in-law-or-whatever_ to read his mind. He’s proved times and times again that when needed, he’d still be a blunt jerk, but a _human_ blunt jerk.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Deep down, Osamu knows that the fact that it’s _Akaashi_ isn’t foreign to Sakusa’s helpfulness. He still doesn’t know what happened between these two during that morning a few weeks ago, but it was enough to make Sakusa _respect_ Akaashi.

(And now that he thinks about it, he’s not even sure if Sakusa respects _him._ ) 

He smiles one last time before going to retrieve his coat from the cloakroom.

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_I’m free. Where are you?_

└──────────────────┘

┌──────────────────┐

Akaashi **Keiji**

_At home._

Akaashi Keiji sent an attachment.

└──────────────────┘

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_On my way._

_You need something?_

└──────────────────┘

┌──────────────────┐

 **Akaashi** **Keiji**

_Since I’m at home, I have everything we need, thank you._

└──────────────────┘

The good thing when you’re at an official party organized by one of the most powerful parties in the country, is that cabs are already waiting for you once you decide to leave the building. He gives the address to the driver and starts biting his lower lip in anxious anticipation. 

It took him exactly five seconds after Akaashi’s text to make his decision with signals of ‘ _Akaashi needs you, you have to go help him’_ ringing loud and clear in his mind; it definitely feels like _déjà-vu._

[ Taylor Swift - Trouble (Goat Remix) starts playing in the background ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ [goat noise.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-aLYvZ5sX28) ]
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> i hope you liked it!!!!!!!!!! i know its 100% osamu-centric but i found myself writing more about his relationship with semi than i thought, so please keep in mind that this is more like.. a chapter 5 part i, than a chapter 5 in itself. i PROMISE that chapter 6 will be about osaaka (not saying there won't be angst thoooo)  
> on the 6 stages of separation: the script invented surviving a breakup for dummies.  
> 


	6. Sad Grocery Basket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> man is akaashi ; 9-year old is osaaka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO  
> age of calamity is staring at me from my coffee table and i cant wait to start the game. so i did not spend as much time editting as usual: i'll probably come back here to check my spelling/grammar/smoothness etc. but i will be taking a break from this fic to play for a bit (i guess there will be an update next week? chapt 7 is done halfway through already so mayyybe)
> 
> \- klaudia, what you ask for, you shall receive (it was planned tho) 
> 
> remember the tws at the beginning.

**CHAPTER 6.**

─✷─

_Man Has Come Too Far To Turn Back For Grocery Basket_

by **Akaashi Keiji**

─✷─

_ october 2020 _

Sitting at his cheap wood desk, Akaashi sighs as he flips through the thin pages of his Japanese civil code, desperately trying to find something, anything, that could help his case. He’s even praying for a miracle, when Suna enters his office after knocking on the open door. The man hands him a black USB drive, with a sigh and a scrunched almost disgusted face.

It’s only been a few weeks since he joined the firm, and work has already been hectic _._ Not in the same way working with Oikawa used to be, but because the amount of time he ended up spending on each case was phenomenal. Suna has some friends in the political world, according to what Oikawa told him, meaning he got cases involving big NGOs and other very-much-more-governmental organizations. Between having to handle new cases and answering tons of emails that would probably never lead to anything, he can already feel himself falling behind his own schedule.

But the cases here involve consequences his former alpha clients would never have to think about when asking for legal advice. His back is already stiff from all the nerve wreckage his caffeinated regime is putting him through.

Bless his experience at the Center.

At least, he’s not completely lost when he opens the files on Suna’s USB drive. His boss comes to sit on the other side of his desk, where the client usually goes, and puts his chin in his palm, looking at him expectantly. 

“I need your opinion on this,” Suna admits, “because I’m not sure if we even stand a chance.”

The first folder contains pictures of a woman with blue, green, orange bruises, a cracked lip, and her arm definitely shouldn’t be going in this direction.

Shivers run down his spine. No matter how many times he has to see this, no matter how many times he’s seen gruesome things at the Center, it never ceases to break him from the inside. Even back when he used to be on the side of the alpha doing this type of crimes.

“Okay.”

“Female omega, twenty-four. She’s mated with an alpha since they were seventeen, and has two kids with him. The pictures speak for themselves.” 

Akaashi nods. They do, indeed.

“She ran away.”

“Mmh.”

“He’s asking for shared custody. One of them is a fifteen years-old teen, also an omega.” 

Akaashi grits his teeth, but he simply nods again. He quickly scans the files, trying to find any evidence of the kid being hurt as well, but nothing goes in this direction, as far as he can see.

“The alpha owns a company where she used to be his secretary. He’s accusing her of kidnapping the children and stealing data from his company.” 

Akaashi quickly reads through the deposition made by the alpha and sighs. He finally turns his head and looks at Suna. He and Oikawa are two faces of the same coin. One of them's mostly defending victims he can relate to, with a cold facade and a sharp smile despite the fire burning inside him, while the other one's defending people he doesn’t even respect, just for the simple belief that ties them all together: _everyone deserves to be defended._

And he used to defend people he couldn't bring himself to feel respect for too, once. Because even the worst criminals deserve a lawyer, and maybe even the best one. Refusing to defend a client, no matter how disgusting they might be, is refusing to recognize, deep down, that they’re _human._

Giving up on them, refusing to admit his clients’ humanity; isn’t it giving up on his own humanity altogether as well?

Sometimes, he lets himself wonder, regrets he didn’t get a more morally straightforward job.

His mind focuses back on the screen. It’s not an outstanding case. It’s even _common,_ in a way. Alpha attacking an omega for leaving an abusive household, topped with some labour law issues. Happens all the time.

“The family law part is handled by other lawyers, but I got the labour law issue, and the Alpha hired that lawyer and-” Suna grits his teeth so hard his already sharp jaw could now cut through a well cooked potato, “she’s a _pregnant_ omega,” he sighs, “a good lawyer, but Toono is the judge for the case, and he’s usually more inclined to rule in favour of alphas. If you add a pregnant omega to the mix- I’m starting with a disadvantage I might not be able to overcome.”

At least the case is not serious enough for the trial to involve a jury. The pregnant omega lawyer card would have been lethal in such a situation.

“I hate it when they do that,” Akaashi mumbles, his eyes still wandering between pictures and various incriminating testimonies, “maybe if you manage to be late enough to submit your evidence and written opinions, she might go on maternity leave before going to court. If the alpha is a client of the firm-”

“Mmmh, this might work.”

“But it could also endanger your client.”

“If I manage to get a paper from Toono saying the children should stay with their mother until the case is settled, and if I’m as slow as I can possibly be- this might work. Depending on who takes over the case instead of her.”

“Toono _loves_ omegas defending alphas,” Akaashi sighs, “so the firm's probably going to give the case to another omega. But at least they won’t be pregnant.”

Suna hums in agreement, taking his USB driver back in one swift movement without ejecting it from his employee's computer. When he leaves, Akaashi finally gets back to his definition of _unwanted_ and groans against his Civil code. Sometimes, it’s only nine in the morning, and he already hates his life for reminding him how much being an omega fucking sucks.

──

Three days later, his unwanted bite case is almost wrapped up when the first symptoms hit him in the back- stabbing him between his shoulder blades. More than being physically painful, it feels like _betrayal_. But his mind immediately reminds him of what Suna told on his first day with dazzling realism, his quiet voice ringing in his ears, his annoyed expression in high definition in his brain. 

_“If you want to take a break to deal with your heats, it’s fine. We’ll take over your urgent cases. You won’t face any consequences for leaving because of a heat, we understand.”_

Closing his session he tries to assess his situation; the symptoms should start getting unbearable in a few hours. He can confidently write a few emails before he has to leave. Great. Standing up, Akaashi walks towards the office across from his. He knocks three times on the door before entering. 

“Good evening, Akaashi,” Suna greets him, looking up from his laptop.

“Good evening, I’m-” _how do you tell your boss that you’re going into heat and that your pants are probably already too wet to be decent?_ “Can I- uhm-” 

His eyes drop to the wooden floor, red probably already rising to his cheeks. He’s been here for a few weeks only, and he knows, _knows,_ what it looks like: _he’s lazy, doesn’t want to work, uses his heats as an excuse to slack off-_

“Oh. I see,” Suna looks at him, discreetly sniffing the air, “of course you can leave. Do you know how long your heat is going to last?”

The casual way his boss says _heat_ almost makes Akaashi choke on his own saliva. He can't recall Oikawa ever saying the word, or at least not without awkwardly looking away.

“Uhm- I- It will probably take four or five days.”

Unless he asks Osamu for help. Again. But, that’s what they’re supposed to do right? They agreed on _not sleeping together outside of heats,_ but the constant tugging at the bottom of his back, the upcoming headache- that’s heat coming. It should be okay to ask him, right?

“Maybe less if I-”

“That’s fine, mine can last for a whole week. Do you want someone to take over your case?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, it's not that urgent, and I might even be able to answer my calls tomorrow.”

“It’s Saturday, Akaashi, you didn’t even have to stay here so late. Shouldn’t you be at the Center anyway?” 

“I told them I was too busy to come today.”

At first, he was supposed to work on his cases, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about abandoning the Center on a very short notice..

“Take your Monday off, even if most of the symptoms are gone, okay?”

“That won’t be necess-”

“We’ve all been there. Big firms led by alphas, especially in the business sector- You won’t need to kill yourself working to get basic respect here, Akaashi. So please, rest for a bit. The firm won’t go bankrupt if you’re not here for a day, I promise. And it seems like you need it.”

He’s been here for a few weeks, and he’s been spending days and nights in his office- Suna probably noticed. Maybe Oikawa told him one thing or two as well. And maybe he did lose some weight during the last few weeks because of the pressure- not that anyone bothered to notice before.

“I know you want to help, maybe here even more than with Oikawa since you’re working on things you’re passionate about,” Suna's brows disappear behind his dark fringe, “but you can’t work efficiently if you’re in heat and too tired to focus correctly. If anything, you owe your client to be rested and ready to fight for them instead of barely surviving, okay?”

Biting his lower lips and eyes dropping to the floor once again, he nods slowly; _whatever._

“I am serious Akaashi. It doesn’t matter how noble the fight is, it is not worth dying for it.”

But who is he without this? Who is he outside of work- outside of his fight- _who are you, Akaashi?_ The tiny voice at the back of his mind repeats, a mantra he's heard way too many times, every time Konoha told him he should quit his job.

Suna’s eyes piercing through his soul make Akaashi shiver. He nods. His new boss isn't overly friendly, doesn’t smile as much as Oikawa, but there’s a sincere glint of respect in his eyes when he talks to Akaashi.

That’s better than whatever fictitious immaculate smile Oikawa could ever give him. 

──

Akaashi wouldn’t say he’s _okay_ with his unplanned heats. They're inconvenient, and they still suck, no matter how many times they happen. But they're also less horrible than what they used to be, ever since he started- started _this thing_ with Osamu.

He's able to notice the symptoms long before the first wave hits now, and he's almost able to plan ahead. 

It’s less painful, less incapacitating.

Sure, his back always hurts. Sure, the sexual hunger is still very much present, but it doesn’t make him want to rip his skin off anymore. Somehow, he thinks he might even be able to spend it alone without too much trouble. 

And yet, he doesn’t really want to try. 

_Who’s surprised?_

The entire audience remains silent, shaking their heads from left to right.

No one.

──

It’s an interesting thing to note, that Miya Osamu doesn’t ring the doorbell: he knocks, quiet but firm.

Akaashi can feel his whole body tense, burning brighter as soon as he hears the light sound reverberating through his entire system, like molten energy running through his veins. 

He runs towards the entrance, inhales deeply to calm his own raging heart, finally opens the door, and-

_And-_

Osamu’s wearing a fucking suit. 

Outside, the rain keeps pouring on anonymous cars parked under his windows, so when the alpha appears in front of him, big drops of rain cascading on his cheeks, like emotionless tears, Akaashi needs _a moment._

_Close your damn mouth, you don’t want to give a free blowjob to an invisible ghost here, Keiji._

He’s not usually a vulgar person, only curses when he’s tired, or in heat. His eyes land on Osamu’s black tie, run across his broad shoulders (that he can now picture above him with striking realism if he focuses hard enough), before coming back to his smirking face. 

The alpha raises his eyebrows, _‘like what you see?’_ he means, and Akaashi can feel his entire face growing hotter, redder. 

_Get. A. Grip. Keiji._

“Hey,” he mumbles.

_Is this your definition of “a grip”?!_

“Hey,” Osamu answers with a grin, clearly seeing right through what’s happening in his head (not that it requires a high IQ: he’s in heat, it’s only natural for him to _stare a little,_ okay?) 

Stepping aside to let him come in, Akaashi notices he isn’t carrying the familiar gym bag where he usually puts the food they end up sharing, and his clothes. So he was serious when he asked Akaashi if he could borrow some stuff from him. _Cute._

Once out of his shoes, Osamu follows him to the living room and navigates through the flat with the confidence of an alpha male, leaving his coat on a chair before coming back with a small smile. 

He stands in front of him, his unfortunately _familiar_ scent filling his nostrils, travelling to his brain, and his heart swells in his chest. It’s soft, calm, reassuring- _ah fuck._ It's more than arousal he's feeling here. Osamu smells like warmth and comfort, when he wraps both his (handsomely muscular) arms around Akaashi’s waist in a gentle hug, pressing his nose in his neck to inhale the omega’s scent, humming softly against his skin.

It’s oddly tender, but Akaashi can’t bring himself to care. He’s in heat, they have every right to be together right now, to touch each other, even though it’s not _strictly necessary_ to hold each other like that. Osamu breached the silent _strictly necessary_ principle as soon as he started eating his ass on their first night together anyway.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, breath warm against his throat.

“The first wave hasn’t kicked yet, so I’m feeling fine,” _even_ _better now that you’re here._

He’s pretty sure he could work for most of this unplanned heat though, considering how mild the symptoms are. But somehow, he doesn’t think he wants to. And Suna certainly wouldn’t let him do it (and he doesn't even want to think about Konoha's reaction).

“Oh- So we can have some fun and take our time,” Osamu grins. Akaashi could have sworn his bones are now on fire, melting under the alpha’s grey gaze. 

His skin is burning when he slips his hands under the fabric of his cotton shirt, gently scratching the small of his back, creating white ephemeral streams on his skin.

Finally, Akaashi smiles softly before capturing Osamu’s lips in a kiss. 

It doesn't stay gentle for long because their mouths open quickly; their tongues never meet, never touch, and he knows that Osamu got the message last time, that he understands that he doesn’t like it, doesn’t have to know why, accepts it anyway- immediate relief washes over him. He kisses his lower lip, the corner of his mouth, his nose, laughs lightly. 

“Maybe you should dry your hair and your face first,” Akaashi suggests, already too breathless for his own damn good, and yet he doesn’t want to stop. 

“Mmh, yeah maybe,” Osamu laughs, his nose resting against his, clearly not wanting to move.

They’re both already hard, he can feel it where their bodies are pressed against each other. It could be due to his heat, and the pheromones flying thick in the air. (Yeah, right, blame it on nature). He leads Osamu to the bathroom, and hands him his favourite green fluffy towel. 

The alpha takes it with a smile and aggressively rubs the fluffy fabric against his scalp, drying his hair with a vigor Akaashi can't help but admire, making a vertical mess out of the black strands on his head. 

Akaashi’s seen him in all kinds of dishevelled (post-coital, in the morning, slightly hungovered), but he can’t recall a sight as soft as this Osamu, standing in his bathroom, in wet clothes, with a fluffy towel that smells like him in his hands, his hair in a wild mess, and a lazy smile on his lips. 

“Better?”

“Mmmh”, Akaashi hums, taking the opportunity to wrap one arm around the alpha’s waist. He starts slowly unmaking the buttons of his damp shirt, his pace unhurried, but only because his other hand is now resting on his ass. There's no way he's going to leave the pleasant place that is Osamu’s ass.

“I like this on you,” he admits, wrapping the end of Osamu's black tie around his index finger.

“You know that’s what I usually wear when I’m teaching,” Osamu laughs.

“Oh, really?” 

He only ever saw Osamu in very casual clothes at the party, or in that even more comfortable purple hoodie he always wore when taking care of his heats. Well, in the end, he mostly saw him _very much naked._

Osamu quickly undoes his tie, throwing it next to the sink.

“Were you meeting with one of them this late, then?” 

He only realizes too late what he's been implying and laughs nervously; it's not his business what Osamu's been up to apart from their casual heat-induced meetings.

“No, no. Atsumu won the elections in our district, I was at the party’s headquarters to celebrate,” he explains with a soft smile and a proud spark in his eyes. “Don't worry,” he adds with a wink, making Akaashi look away.

“Oh. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

Osamu shrugs (‘ _t’s alright_ ), and he's going back to kissing Akaashi’s face, his wet shirt finally falls on the floor, revealing his shivering skin. The sight alone makes his entire body temperature rise dramatically.

The last few weeks had been busy. With the last case Oikawa assigned to him, Akaashi had ended up sleeping at his desk for a few nights. And moving from one job to another took every amount of strength left. That's probably the only reason why he's not currently overthinking the hurricane of feelings assaulting his mind lately. There's no energy left in his bones to dwell on whatever's been happening in his heart since Konoha’s birthday party.

But now. Now that he texted Osamu on impulse (or maybe because texting him when in heat became a habit) (maybe), everything comes crashing down on him at once again: the need, the want, not caused by his heat, but by his own goddamn mind. 

Soon, he’ll have to face the reality of what’s going on: 

> \- One. He has a crush.
> 
> \- Two. He has a crush and he’s sleeping with him.
> 
> \- Three. He has a crush and he’s sleeping with him and he might be falling in love too.

Relief washes over him when Osamu starts nipping at his ear, following the path of his jawline, hungry for more, chasing his anguished thoughts away with his tongue. It doesn’t take long for them to end up naked. 

It’s an automatism that comes with familiarity, clothes dropping on the floor with no grace, but with practised ease. They’re not even out of the bathroom yet, still kissing each other hungrily, bare skin finally touching.

The heat might be here, burning his limbs from the inside, but it’s something else entirely that's haunting the back of his mind. It goes far beyond the carnal need he’s feeling for the other man. It's clear in his mind, and there's no way for him to seriously deny it anymore: it’s not the heat that makes him kiss Osamu's throat, it's not the heat that makes him pull at him to bring him closer. And one day, he'll stop for a second and ask himself, is it because it's an alpha, or is it because it's Osamu; _how would it feel with another alpha?_

But today’s not the day. Not when Osamu’s guiding him out of the bathroom to bring him to the living room, where the TV is still on, his instrumental Spotify playlist playing quietly in the background. 

Akaashi finally takes a step back, smiling at Osamu and their breaths are mingling between their faces, pheromones already flaring up around them, making their skins tingle with hunger; but he has to close his laptop and turn off the TV. His bills are already expensive enough and his accountant won't care if Osamu has a cute smile and dimples.

Somehow, he doesn’t find himself minding the fact that he’s walking around completely naked, only for Osamu to see. He doesn’t mind. Probably because he’s seen him in way more shameful positions, and nudity isn’t something that should bother him anyway, considering what they’re about to do. But it's more than that, it's about the familiarity of his gaze, it's about the way he always made him feel safe no matter what- 

Listen, it's really difficult not to fall in love with someone like that.

He takes a look at Osamu’s phone on the table, next to his coat, where an angry green dot is blinking right back at him, reminding him exactly of what Osamu said a few minutes earlier. 

“Won’t Atsumu be mad that you left?” Akaashi asks, hoping that stealing the politician’s brother won’t have an impact on whatever he was planning to do for the Omega Center.

“Don’t worry, he was already drunk when I left,” Osamu shakes his head, folding his clothes and putting them on the chair where he put his coat.

Akaashi follows his movements, warmth spreading inside him at the sight. It might kill the mood, but when it comes to heats, the tidier it is when it begins, the better. Especially since it’s his flat and not a hotel room that's going to be cleaned after they’re finished anyway. And Osamu probably knows this, and he doesn't even wait for Akaashi to ask him to do it- _ah, fuck._

“And Sakusa’s there to take care of him,” he adds to reassure him.

“I see.”

“I thought I might as well come here and take care of you to celebrate,” Osamu teases him, once everything is in order, and he can wrap his arms around Akaashi’s narrow hips in peace, pressing his lazily hard cock against the omega’s ass. 

“Mmmh, and how are you going to _take care of me exactly?_ ” Akaashi asks as innocently as he can, turning around to press gentle kisses along Osamu’s neck, aiming straight for his scent glands, softly biting the sensitive skin there. 

Getting bitten by an omega isn't a real threat for an alpha, unless he bit that omega first. It might change his scent for a few hours, but apart from that, consequences are pretty much non-existent. So Akaashi keeps biting the soft gland, ripping a low growl from Osamu’s throat who holds him there for a while, his fingers travelling through his dark hair, gently pulling at his scalp when he starts biting too enthusiastically. 

It never occurred to him that he could even enjoy this, the idea of biting an alpha’s scent glands, marking him with his scent, even if only for a few hours. 

The only time anyone ever touched his own scent glands was when he got bitten by one of these alphas he hooked up with during his first year of law school. And he had no intention to bite any of them back at that time. He still remembers having to go through a fucking long withdrawal period, can still feel the judgemental stares from doctors and nurses on him, still remember the effect of special hormones on him, that fucked him up even more than his current suppressants- whatever. Bite marks aren't something he usually likes for this exact reason.

[ TLtR; Being claimed with no consent is **not** fun. ]

It didn’t _traumatize_ him though, he’s lucky enough that the experience didn’t impact him much. Although he’s much more wary now, has learnt some precious defence techniques, knows how to prevent an alpha from biting him, knows how to make them kneel on the floor, even in the middle of a heat, with just a few right hits. Kageyama Miwa is someone no one should underestimate when it comes to self-defence. He can still feel it in his bones, how exhausted he was after each hour of training session. But he's glad he let her pin her down on the floor for a few months, because he can do it too, now.

And when Osamu entered his life, when he walked into that impersonal hotel room, with the first promise of a knot for Akaashi in six years, the omega knew, deep down, that he would be able to stop him if things went too far. 

Then he had brought up the collar, and the potential need to defend himself got pushed aside.

What was much more alarming though, was that maybe- maybe, he didn’t really _want_ to stop him anymore. He'd still be able to do it physically, but he's not sure his instincts would even tell him to resist. Because _he_ is the one currently leaving marks everywhere on Osamu's neck, softly biting his scent glands, leaving his scent everywhere he can, and yeah he wouldn't exactly be against the idea of _claiming_ that man.

“Fuck- Akaashi, you need to stop doing that,” Osamu finally whispers, interrupting him.

His head is now thrown back, throat laid bare, and Akaashi accepts to leave the small spot on the left side of his neck with a small groan, leaving marks on his skin, red, blue, purple stains already blooming on his neck, on his shoulders instead. He still rubs his nose against his scent gland each time he gets closer to it, taking in the scent of their pheromones mixing together with a quiet moan.

“ _Akaashi._ ”

“Yeah- Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” the alpha straightens up. He's still hard (harder, even) against his thigh, “I like it- Just maybe a _bit_ too much,” he tries to laugh it off, but Akaashi smirks, and Osamu’s laugh dies down in a strangled choke.

“Oh, do you?” Akaashi grins harder, coming to stand against his thighs.

“What are you-”

“Maybe I want it to be just _hell of a lot_ too much,” he teases, going back to licking at the fragile skin of his throat, gently sucking on it, making Osamu shiver against his chest, and he presses his entire body against his this time, slowly grinding their cocks against each other. 

“Where’s your collar-” Osamu interrupts him, again.

“Mmmh what?” Akaashi mumbles, too busy scenting the side of his neck and enjoying the feeling of a larger dick against his, until Osamu gently pushes him away, trying to meet his gaze.

“ _Your collar, Akaashi._ ”

 _Oh,_ it’s a serious tone, a serious gaze. Akaashi blinks. Well, that's hot.

“You _need_ to get your collar, Akaashi, _now._ ”

He blinks one more time, and finally clears his throat before nodding, mind still in a bit of a haze; the heat is definitely hitting now, and it might be the first time he ever felt aroused _before_ the first symptoms came. And when the first wave hits, he almost doesn’t notice it, too busy looking for his collar, _too busy obeying Osamu's order.  
_

The piece of leather hasn’t left his bedside table, so it only takes a few minutes for him to retrieve it, and put it on with the skill of someone who has been manipulating the thing for far too long. 

His eyes meet his reflection in the mirror, and he quickly moves away, trying to ignore the way his stomach tightens when he realizes exactly how he looks ( _debauched_ ); and why he looks like this (for ~~his~~ an alpha). 

Walking back to the living room, he finds Osamu typing something on his phone with an amused grin, still effortlessly naked.

But as soon as Akaashi makes his presence known by approaching, he puts his phone back on the table, and comes to meet him in the middle of the living room. He starts kissing him again, more voracious this time (but still no tongue- gods that man and his self-control; the respect he shows for his (an omega's) boundaries- he could _sob_ because of it). 

Osamu gently pushes him back, until he feels the couch hit the back of his knees, and he falls against the cushions. The alpha quickly joins him, sitting on his thighs, never leaving his lips, breathing the same air as him, and it’s a wonder how they still have clean air to take into their lungs. Akaashi cups his cheek to keep him there, burying his other hand in the black hair, pulling him closer to him. And their dicks are pressed together again, making them moan when he rolls his hips. 

“Is it the collar that makes you this hard?” Akaashi mocks him, but Osamu raises his eyebrows in arrogant disbelief. 

“No, it’s just from seeing you.”

This man needs to learn how to detect irony, and how to respond to it accordingly, or he might end up _killing_ him. 

“And I think that leaving bruises around my scent gland might have helped,” he admits with a soft laugh, against Akaashi’s lips before he starts kissing down his cheeks, gently nipping at his jaw, his throat, his bare shoulders- leaving small bruises there, before he starts going lower, attacking his collarbones, his nipples, his ribcage, his hip; a pathway he already knows too damn well (not that Akaashi's complaining).

He falls on the floor, on his knees, and looks up at Akaashi who looks right back at him with some terrified adoration in his eyes, just before he starts biting his open thighs, licking the tender place where they join his abdomen. And finally, his tongue ends up reaching the head of his cock, already leaking from all the teasing, and if his slick is already staining the couch, he doesn’t care, can’t bring himself to. 

The heat is almost forgotten, currently at the very back of his head, and if his muscles are still sore, if the crack between his ass cheeks is wet from slick, he doesn’t notice it, doesn't care at all anymore. Alpha pheromones are mixing with his, and the familiar scent of Osamu's naked skin only helps soothe him; he’s the most relaxed he's ever been during a heat, and this realization should terrify him. But it doesn't.

Osamu starts licking his shaft, swallowing white pearls, before taking the head in his mouth, tongue soft, pressed flat against his slit; Akaashi can only note that he's already on the verge of orgasm. 

It’s not the first time someone sucks his dick- but it’s rare enough, and fog starts invading his mind when Osamu closes his lips tightly around him, before swallowing him whole in one go. Omegas don’t have large, or even particularly long members; realistically, his performance is not _that_ impressive- but the act in itself, the image of seeing him on his knees- it’s more than enough to make Akaashi lose his mind. 

Letting his head fall against the wall behind him, he starts rolling his hips, slowly, savouring the feeling of warmth, and wetness around him- around that part of him that he, and others, have neglected so many times, for so long. It feels good, foreign, almost forbidden, to have an alpha kneeling between his legs, sucking his cock- but he can’t find any reason why they should stop. Still, the sensation of _wrong_ lurks at the back of his mind, as his fingers tighten in Osamu’s hair, his groans getting louder. His toes curl; he closes his eyes.

“Oh fuck- fuck- _fuck,_ Osamu-” he warns him.

His brain is melting, it’s running down his ears; all he can see are mixes of purples and blues behind his closed eyelids. And he doesn’t register Osamu’s strong hands on his hips, keeping him from moving too wildly against his mouth, leaving bruises right below his hip bones. But he still keeps his length between his lips, swallowing everything; every single drop of sperm that comes out. 

How could he even do that- why would he even do that? That’s not the right thing to do, not what he needs, not how things work- it’s _disgusting,_ it’s wrong; a voice comes from the back of his head.

 _It’s disgusting-_

The tiny voice at the back of his head lets him know, louder than his orgasm torpor.

Osamu rises from between his legs, and Akaashi can’t even meet his eyes, _how could he even come inside his mouth- how could he dare?_ It’s disgusting- _disgusting-_ Osamu wipes the remaining wetness from his mouth with the back of his hand, and smiles at him- _is he making fun of him?_

“Told you I was going to take care of you,” he jokes, tone light and eyes amused, and it sounds, looks, smells _sincere,_ but something- something just won’t register- _how could he come in an alpha’s mouth?_

How _dare_ you? the voice screams, repeats. _Fuck._

Getting his ass eaten was one thing- still disgusting, but it could be justified: to get him wetter, to get him to submit- but being brought to orgasm, completion, being swallowed down by an _alpha_ ; betas have always fucked him with ease, and other omegas are the ones who usually went down on him, but alphas? And it doesn’t even make sense that Osamu would do that to him. It has no purpose, no goal, he won’t be easier to penetrate after that, won’t be more pliant. If anything, he's just going to sleep-

It doesn’t make sense, and his brain can’t accept- thoughts keep whirling in his head-

“Why did you do that?” he finally asks, head thrown against the wall, eyes staring at the ceiling.

“Why did I- Didn’t you want to- Oh my god, I’m sorry, I thought- I should have asked- I’m-”

Akaashi shakes his head slowly, and Osamu quickly stands up, coming to sit next to him on the couch, cross-legged.

“No, I mean why did you do that- it doesn’t-” and _oh boy,_ he can feel his heart start beating faster and faster, his stomach curl, his throat tighten. “It doesn’t make sense- you’re an alpha and you just- it’s disgusting-”

“Akaashi, I swear I’m- I’m really sorr-”

“ _I’m_ disgusting,” he lets out in a frustrated breath, shaky from the torrent of emotions that are coming up, crashing down over his mind, “everything that- it’s just-” _I’m so weak._ “How could I come in your mouth _like_ that- it’s disgusting, I’m so sorry-” _You deserve so much better; a pliant omega, who doesn’t like seeing you on your knees this much,_ the voice finds the missing words for him, providing his brain with the end of his broken sentences. _  
_

His thoughts don’t even really make sense anymore, crashing from left and right, merciless and accusing. _Too weak to be an alpha ; too strong to be an omega. No one wants you anyw-_

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me- look _at me,_ Akaashi,” Osamu slowly comes closer to the now trembling omega, wary not to touch him, giving him some space without making him feel like he’s going to walk away, like he's done this before. “You’re not disgusting- and none of _this_ is disgusting, okay? But if you don’t like it, I won’t do it again- never. I swear, I’m so sorry, I have no excuse-”

“No! No, I liked it- I did, I just-” Akaashi sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and finally, turns his head to look at the man sitting next to him, “but just because I blew you last time doesn’t mean I want you to do it too- If you don’t like it; especially since you probably don’t even like it- I mean, why would you?”

Osamu shakes his head with a small laugh, and somehow Akaashi ends up wondering if he’s having some type of silly realization too.

“I liked it, Akaashi. I did it because I wanted to, and I think it’s- okay.” 

He inhales deeply.

“-and it’s hot to suck you off, okay?” he blurts out with a quiet laugh, “and I could have showed you just how _hard_ you made me just by pulling at my hair but- you know, I kind of went soft again- but I swear I got _reaaaally_ hard.”

“You _liked_ it,” Akaashi whispers, looking at him in disbelief.

_He liked it._

Liked swallowing his dick, his cum, liked going on his knees for him, his hair being pulled at- it doesn’t make sense, but Osamu has never really made any sense to him.

Maybe that’s what he likes in him.

“I did. And I’d do it again if you asked me.”

Their eyes meet for a solid second this time, understanding passing between them, unsaid but soothing. Yeah, he can work with that.

“As much as I’d like to do it again- it’s not a blow job that I need,” Akaashi smiles weakly, feeling his heart finally falling back to his normal rhythm, his stomach uncurling a little, as he starts breathing deeply again.

Osamu smiles back, and welcomes him, when he comes to rest under one of his arms.

“You’re not disgusting, Akaashi, I don’t think giving you pleasure for the sake of it is bad. It’s not a waste of time, and I don’t think your sperm, or your slick, is disgusting. _But_ if you don’t like something, I won’t ask you to do it. Just, don’t assume that because I’m an alpha, I don't like- _You know.”_

After being so direct with his words, he finally blushes and looks away. But, Akaashi nods anyway, coming to rest his head against his shoulder, humming softly. It seems to give Osamu the strength to find the right words though, because he starts speaking again, voice quieter against the top of his head.

“I mean- you fucked me last time- I think it’s pretty obvious that I have unusual preferences for an alpha.”

“Yeah. I’m- Yeah.” 

One day, they’ll have to talk about it- if they become regulars (they’ve been hooking up for more than a year, what else do they need to become _regulars,_ he doesn’t know). They’ll have to talk about a lot of things.

But not today. 

“Okay. I’m sorry I just- I’m not used to alphas, people, caring about my pleasure.”

“It’s okay, we all come with different backgrounds, and different experiences,” Osamu says, wisely. 

(Too bad, Akaashi still remembers him serenading him with a _One Direction_ song, so he knows: he’s just pretending.)

──

Osamu blows him again two hours later, laying on his side between his legs, on his bed, with three fingers lazily pulling in and out of him. Akaashi’s fingers are buried in his hair, pulling at it while he rolls his hips, trying to make him fuck him deeper, but Osamu resists, uses his tongue against the head of his cock, brushes his prostate with the tip of his fingers, teases, retrieves, comes back; but never deeper.

He fucks him with his fingers for what seems like hours, making Akaashi cry out into his forearm. It’s just too much- the warmth around him, the solid fingers inside him. But even with this, it's still not enough. It burns, the need for something more, the need to feel Osamu’s body over him, to feel small beneath him; he’s a whimpering mess, not quite begging, but if the sounds escaping his mouth had been words, they doubtlessly would have been _please._

But Osamu is cruel, and he likes to take his time- after all, he promised him he would take care of him. So that’s what he does, he gives him pleasure for the sake of it: not because Akaashi asked, not because Akaashi’s in heat, just because he can, and wants to. It doesn’t have a reason, or a purpose, he just wants him to feel good, and so, he keeps sucking him, keeps pushing his fingers in and out- 

Until it becomes too much for him too, and he knows he _needs_ to get into that tight pliant hole he’s been stretching for the past fifteen minutes. 

“See? How hard giving you pleasure _for absolutely no reason_ makes me?” He whispers in Akaashi’s ear, pressing his cock against his when he comes back up; making him _feel_ exactly how hard he is, how long and wide his dick is now, just from sucking him off- every moan, every shiver, it's because of him.

“Yeah, put it inside me then,” Akaashi replies with a smirk that he hopes is convincing, doesn’t want him to know how appeased this simple confession makes him. He’s not just being selfish, too demanding, too weird; or at least, if he is, then, Osamu doesn't care.

“Yes, _Master_ ,” Osamu jokes, his smile definitely meeting his widened pupils, when their eyes meet;

There’s a second of indescribable tension between them, like a door cracked open, not quite open yet, but- it's something.

It passes as soon as it comes, but they both felt it, the shivers down Akaashi’s arms, the way Osamu’s eyes became serious for the span of an instant when he noticed, his lips parting a little in a surprised _oh._

But they start moving, and the momentum vanishes. Osamu retrieves a condom, and Akaashi spreads his thighs further apart, raising his hips slightly. When the alpha’s cock finally settles against his entrance, his mind's already going blank. The push is agonizingly slow, and he naturally closes his thighs around Osamu's hips, using his ankles to draw him in, moaning at the feeling of finally being stretched like he’s been craving to.

The roll of Osamu’s hips is slow, regular, like waves crashing onto the shore on a sunny day. It’s calm, predictable, it’s _familiar._

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers finally, lips pressed on his temple, arms wrapped around his body, holding him close.

He takes his time; there’s no rush- they don’t have a check-out coming up in the afternoon this time, don’t have other people who might hear them; it’s only them, the silence, and all the time that exists in the world.

Until Osamu starts aiming at Akaashi’s prostate, still slow, almost deliberately lazy. The omega throws his head back at the impact, and starts rolling his hips, meeting his thrusts, trying to make him fuck him harder, eager to feel him more _._ And Osamu follows, starts pushing in harder, deeper.

His pace gets faster, and he ends up pushing in so hard, Akaashi actually ends up almost sitting against his pillows, his fingers gripping the metal headboard to have some leverage, as he rolls his hips, welcoming Osamu's thrusts with moans he's not even trying to muffle.

Their bodies are even closer now, chests pressed against each other, his cock trapped between their stomachs, and he just can’t resist- it’s too much, the stimulation of his prostate, the pressure against his cock, Osamu’s eyes on him, from the side of his face, where he keeps kissing his temple, his forehead;

“You’re making me lose it just by looking at you,” the alpha manages to whisper, mouth hot against the skin of his temple, as he rams into him. 

There’s no sarcastic retort that comes to his mind, nothing else than infinite fondness for the man currently fucking him to oblivion. And when Akaashi feels like he’s going to fall, pleasure building up in his stomach gradually, naturally, after being teased for so long; his head moves forward, mouth closing on Osamu’s shoulder. He bites, _hard,_ muffling his moans, until the tension rises inside him, almost reaching its breaking point; and his lips travel, teeth scratching bare skin; his mouth goes up, up, up, reaching for Osamu's throat, his Adam apple, and finally, the side of his neck. 

His head is spinning, and not just from the pressure building inside him, it’s something more, a hunger-

He bites the alpha _there,_ right on the left side of his neck, where his scent gland is producing an insane amount of pheromones in response to his own. 

And the answer is instantaneous.

“ _FUCK- Akaashi-_ ” 

His knot swells, and Akaashi comes in a cry. 

Three things happens at once, all linked to the other, in various orders, intertwined causes and consequences:

Osamu’s head immediately drifts towards the junction between Akaashi’s neck and shoulder; teeth growing as they sink in the leather covering the left side of Akaashi’s neck- he doesn’t reach the skin, doesn’t even come close to it, but the simple pressure of the collar against the omega’s irritated scent gland is enough to make him cry out louder. His hand tightens in Osamu’s hair, pushes against his scalp to keep him there, against his throat, _bite me harder,_ it means, _tear that collar apart if you want._

The knot swells, and the alpha comes, probably harder than he ever did with Akaashi, considering the way he just can’t restrain himself from biting into the collar this time, gripping the omega’s hips hard to _keep him there too._ And he comes- and he comes- and he comes-, moaning without managing to form words, just _moaning and groaning,_ stilling inside Akaashi, as far as he can reach, his knot trapping him inside. And the omega suddenly wishes he could just feel his come inside, not just the twitch of his dick, not just his knot, but everything- 

It doesn’t stop him from coming again though, because as soon as Osamu’s knot comes to life, and he keeps fucking him anyway- Akaashi falls again, harder than the first time _(‘Fuck Osamu- fuck it’s- (you’re tearing me up)- keep movin- ahn, shit!’)_. He sinks his teeth inside the alpha’s neck, leaving a dark mark there, and his back arches from the pillows, heat spilling between them again.

They slowly slide down the headboard, Osamu’s knot still locked inside him. He rests his head on Akaashi’s chest, not minding the white liquid smeared on their stomachs. They’ll worry about the cleanliness later.

“I think I’m too exhausted for a round two,” Akaashi whispers with a tired laugh, his mouth now in Osamu’s sweaty hair.

“Mmmmh.” 

They both laugh, wrapping their arms around each other, none of them caring about that very visible mark on Akaashi’s collar, or about that just as visible mark on Osamu’s neck. 

The second wave doesn’t seem come that night- if it’s because he simply doesn’t _feel_ it washing over him, or because it’s slower to start, or because it simply doesn’t to come, he doesn’t know.

──

He wakes up with Osamu’s limbs spread on the entire surface of the bed, leaving only a few centimetres for Akaashi to exist. His face looks tranquil. It’s not necessarily a rare sight, apart from his orgasm face, Osamu usually harbours an expression of total neutrality; harmonious and quietly amicable. No wrinkle of annoyance, no tightly shut eyes; his face is smooth, content with just existing. And Akaashi doesn’t even envy him for it, simply feels happy for his inner peace.

It’s already ten in the morning, and Akaashi can’t remember the last time he slept so soundly. Maybe Osamu’s tranquillity is more contagious than he thought.

“I can feel you staring,” Osamu says, his eyes still closed.

“Mmmh.”

“Like what you see?”

_A bit too much, certainly._

“You have nice arms.”

_Real smooth Keiji._

One might think that after all the fucking, the flirting, he might be used to Osamu’s presence and looks, but one. would. be. so. damn. wrong. Akaashi Keiji is still as perturbed by the alpha as he was the first time they shared his heat.

(Okay, maybe not as much ever since he heard him sing _What Makes You Beautiful_ ). 

“Thanks, I work out.”

Akaashi finally rolls on his side; Osamu turns his head and slightly opens one of his eyes to look at what he’s doing. 

It’s Sunday morning, the blanket he threw on them yesterday has since then slipped from their shoulders to their hips; cars are honking outside, and there’s almost no light piercing through the blinds. It’s the beginning of October after all; it’s probably raining, and the room smells like sex (realistically, it probably smells _bad_ ), and Osamu’s body heat radiates in the entire bed. It’s Sunday morning, and their eyes meet, and Akaashi can feel himself falling. Hard.

“How’s your heat doing?” Osamu breaks the relative silence, eyes worried.

“Good. I think I’m good.” 

“In one go?”

“Well- that’s how it’s normally supposed to go.” 

Unplanned heats aren’t supposed to be as long as normal heats. They’re not even supposed to happen at all; unless you’re like Akaashi, and you've been taking suppressants for too long. One knot should be enough to appease a normal unplanned heat; unless you’re like Akaashi, and you’ve refused to take a knot for too long. 

But the world seems to come back on its original axis, everything’s back in order; only now, there’s a new heavenly body in his orbit.

──

“Coffee?” Akaashi asks after half an hour of just staying there, in Osamu’s arms, staring at the ceiling, and listening to their heartbeats, enjoying the quietness of the man beside him.

“Oh, yeah, please.”

He sighs contentedly, and finally manages to leave the warmth of Osamu’s _nice arms._ He drags his body down to the kitchen, with only a blanket, that he takes from the couch, wrapped around his shoulders. Being naked in his flat isn’t something he usually does, he’s a pretty _cold_ person, his skin always colder than the average person; but Osamu’s body heat apparently even affects his epidermis too.

The coffee machine starts to vibrate as he presses the power button. 

So, his heat has passed, no sign of a second wave like the two other times they hooked up in this situation. He could easily make Osamu leave, and go back to his case. 

The second cup of coffee is in the process of being made, when he smells the alpha’s familiar scent getting closer, and he sighs with contentment. He could ask him to leave. But he could also use a _teeny tiny bit_ of his warmth for a little longer. 

One arm slides around his waist, and he immediately relaxes against Osamu’s naked chest. His lips spread in a small smile, heart swelling with joy, at the smell of coffee first, at the smell of the other man second. (Sure, Jan.) 

“You want me to help?”

“What do you want to eat?”

He turns his head to look at Osamu, and moans in outrage when he sees the smirk on the alpha’s lips, the amused glint in his eyes as he looks at the place between his legs.

“Oh my god, you’re a _pig_.”

“Later- later, I got it. We’ll eat something first. Crêpes? I’m good at making them. It’s the French studies apparently.”

“Mmmh, just another one of your _greatest_ talents.”

“Exactly.”

“We should wear something more than _nothing_ if we’re going to cook.”

“Mmmh, right.”

“You wanna borrow some clothes? I have oversized things since I doubt that you’d fit in my regular clothes.”

But the idea of seeing Osamu in a too tight buttoned-up shirt- _mh._

“Yeah, I left the party in a rush yesterday.”

When Akaashi comes back from his room, he selected an old blue jumper with yellow astronomy drawings on it. It used to be Konoha’s, became Akaashi’s after his best friend decided he would only wear green for the rest of his life (that idea lasted for two months, but he ended up keeping the jumper anyway). He hands him a pile of clothes with a small smile. Thank god for Konoha and Bokuto always leaving stuff at his place.

“Thanks.”

There’s something disgustingly satisfying in the sight of Miya Osamu, alphaest of alphas, in Akaashi’s silly jumper, cooking for them.

It takes around an hour for them (Osamu) to make the crêpes; he doesn’t make them jump in the pan, only turns them with a spatula, but it’s okay, Akaashi doesn’t mind. 

They sit on the couch _where he got his dick sucked yesterday-_ he’ll need to change this couch- and start eating. He finally takes a look at his phone that he left charging on the coffee table. No emergency today apparently. Good.

“Since the heat has passed, I think I’m going to work for a bit,” Akaashi suggests once he’s done with his fifth crêpe, “but you- could stay if you want. It won’t take long, I just didn’t have time to wrap everything up yesterday because of the heat.”

“Yeah, sure,” Osamu kisses his temple before he starts clearing the table, “I’ll just call Atsumu quickly to- let him know.”

“Sure.”

──

He’s typing an email for his client, when Osamu comes back from the bathroom, hair wet from the shower. His sits down on the other side of the table, smirking at the phone in his hand. 

“How’s Atsumu?”

"Hungovered."

Akaashi chuckles, and lets his whole body fall against the back of his chair with a deep long sigh.

“Difficult case?”

“Not really- Just emotionally draining.”

“Have you ever defended people you thought were guilty?”

“Oh, yeah. Plenty. It’s my job. My personal beliefs can’t interfere. Everybody deserves a defence, and I’ll be there to provide it. It’s my duty- but obviously it’s not always easy.”

It's a question dozens of people have already asked him before, so he already has a pre-made answer. Osamu hums, looking at him intensely. 

“Is that why you work at the Omega Center?” _to make up for it?_

“Mmh- Not really. I started going there because Kuroo, a friend of mine, started volunteering there.” He doesn’t say that he went there as a _patient_ first. “Wanted to help omegas as much as I could. It just felt right.”

“I see. It’s admirable.”

It’s not the first time someone tells him that when they learn that he volunteers at the Center. Frankly, it used to bother him- why would it be admirable? Everyone should spend time helping others. But with time, patience, and exhaustion, he just ended up accepting it. It _is_ admirable, and the fact that almost all of his friends are volunteers is a chance a lot of other people don’t have. 

So, when Osamu tells him that, with honesty in his eyes, he only smiles tiredly.

“They helped me once, so I’m helping them now.” 

That’s the closest he usually comes to talk about his first visit at the Center. And he usually doesn't talk about his first visit at the Center. Besides Kuroo and Konoha, only a few people know about that night. But Osamu seems to get it, to, maybe not understand, but see what he meant by that. So, he nods, but stays silent. 

There are many reasons why Omegas come to the Center. His wasn’t unusual, not even dramatic. An unwanted biting mark, something he had to get rid of as fast as possible. Konoha brought him there, Kuroo took care of it, Miwa taught him how to make sure it would never happen again. Fast, simple. Nothing to cry over.

“Do you want another cup of coffee?” 

──

After lunch Osamu ends up borrowing Akaashi’s laptop to work on his dissertation, with the omega curled up next to him on the couch. He's scrolling through his Instagram, smiling at Bokuto and Aran’s last selfie with Konoha. Their silence is comfortable, only broken by Osamu’s smooth typing, and Akaashi’s frequent sighs when he sees something he doesn’t like. 

The TV is blurting white noise in the background, until one familiar logo appears on the screen, catching his attention.

┌───────────────────────┐

Tsukuba Omega Center vandalized after Nishimura case.

└───────────────────────┘

He straightens up, tilting his head; vandalism is not something foreign to them. It’s in the bare bones of the Omega Centers to bother alphas. It’s not unusual for them to find a broken window, or to get death threats in their mails. However, it never went as far as this. At least not here.

“Fuck.”

Osamu raises his head, looking at the screen. 

“What happened?”

“I guess the prosecution won the Nishimura case, and people aren’t happy about it,” Akaashi sighs. “I hope they won’t have to close the Center.” 

But looking at the pictures on the screen, it doesn't seem like they'll be able to keep working in such conditions, unless they find another building quickly. 

“They aren’t usually very happy about alphas getting convicted for unwanted bites. I didn’t think they’d go as far as attacking an Omega Center though.”

“Does it happen here too?”

“No, we get threats and broken doors or windows, but never real- never real attacks. Alphas don’t like us, but we’re not big enough to be a threat. We don’t get involved in big cases yet, so the spotlight’s not on us.”

“Aren’t you scared?” 

Akaashi laughs bitterly, turning off the TV before throwing the controller on the other side of the couch.

“I guess I am, but I think it’s not a fear comparable to the one an unwanted bite mark provokes. And I think- I think, it’s my duty to help them. I _can_ help them, so I’m not going to stop just because some alphas have decided that they, that _we,_ shouldn’t speak.” 

He takes his phone to send a quick text to Kuroo, asking him if he saw the news, and turns his head towards Osamu. 

“I do my best, and that’s it.”

Osamu simply hums and Akaashi shrugs.

He usually doesn’t talk about his involvement with the Center. It’s not a secret, but he definitely isn’t vocal about it. It’s his duty, and doesn’t need to get any reward out of it; and after years of helping other omegas, he’s still struggling with what his own condition means for himself. So why would he even do anything else than _try his best,_ and work in the shadows, right? He’s far from being an example, but if he can help, he’ll do it. Stupid simple.

“The worst attacks are the lack of funding. Especially since we’re heavily understaffed, and I’m barely keeping up with my cases there- but I’m surviving. We all are, it's what we do best.” 

The alpha only starts moving after a few seconds of hesitation, putting the laptop away on the coffee table to look at Akaashi, _really_ look at him. They stare at each other, and Osamu takes a deep breath before speaking.

“You sound like Atsumu. You know- he really gets into these political debates. And that’s good, it’s beautiful to see people fighting for what they believe in. We need them, people like him- and you. But he’s jumping from one issue to the other, sometimes he’s dealing with them all at the same time, and with his daily work on top of that- he’s _barely_ surviving.” 

He kisses his temple, gentle and cups his cheek in his hand, locking their gazes together as he whispers;

“Some fights are worth fighting for, they are; but they are not necessarily worth dying for. I won’t tell you this one isn’t worth it, but don’t forget that you also have the right to breathe; you don’t have to suffocate all the time.”

His first instinct is to think _what would you know about it; you’ve never had your rights threatened; who are you to tell me my fights aren’t worth dying for? If I don’t exhaust myself to death for them, who will help them when I’m resting?_

But some voice at the back of his mind wants to scream along with the other one. It ends up whispering a weak _thank you_ instead.

“Don’t let it burn you down to ashes, okay?” _because you won’t make it back._

Akaashi hums, knows deep down that Osamu’s right, can see why he’s telling him that; can see the similarities with Atsumu. The guilt for doing nothing; the self-hatred for not doing enough. Konoha has been telling him to slow down for ages, even Kuroo has started to talk to him about taking a small break away from the Center.

“Yeah.” 

“Want something to eat?” Osamu asks with a small grin; an escape he’s offering him, although it’s relatively early in the evening. 

So Akaashi grins right back at him and kisses him, slow and gentle. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to feel, and emotions are myriads inside his mind. Sadness, anger, frustration- resignation.

He’s not in heat anymore, so he shouldn’t be doing this, but _who cares,_ right? 

He’s still on heat leave until Tuesday morning, so it still counts as a heat, he decides. And it’s not like Osamu’s complaining, when Akaashi falls on his knees between his legs, mirroring his own behaviour from the day before, pulling his pants and underwear down with him. 

Akaashi has to admit, he’s starting to like the feeling of the alpha’s dick's weight in his mouth, of his throat feeling sore after sucking him off for too long, Osamu’s hands in his hair- it’s starting to become both more familiar, and more arousing each time they start making out.

“I don’t know why I bothered cooking if you’re happy with this,” Osamu manages to say between two moans, and the temptation to _bite his cock off_ travels through his mind at March speed. 

He simply lets go of his length in a loud _pop,_ watching it fall back on Osamu’s stomach, leaking pre-cum there. 

“Bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” Osamu replies, promptly standing up.

They manage to get rid of their clothes before landing on the bed; before Akaashi starts aggressively kissing Osamu’s mouth; before Osamu actually freezes under him, gripping his arms to stop him.

“You’ve got to put your collar on.”

“Or what?” Akaashi teases, obediently standing up to take it from the bedside table anyway.

“You know what.”

_Yes, he does. And fuck if this doesn't make him feel things-  
_

“Say it,” Akaashi says, looking at him from above. He kneels on the bed, closing the collar around his throat, and Osamu stares in a way that means _really?_

“Say it- out loud.” _Tell me you want it too,_

“I know what you are-” Osamu whispers

Akaashi tilts his head, looking at him with scepticism-

And Osamu pauses dramatically before whispering, “a vampire.”

The omega freezes in the process of fastening the collar, staring at the man below him, lips tightening before he grabs a pillow and throws it at Osamu's face.

“Did you just- _Oh my god, did you just quote Twilight? Just before having SEX?_ ”

Osamu has the decency to look away, but it’s too late, it’s too fucking late because Akaashi starts laughing, and it doesn’t stop. His stomach hurts, his abs hurt, but he can’t stop laughing, can’t even find the strength to breathe. 

“You’re unbelievable.” 

“ _You_ ’re unbelievable,” Osamu replies, in a whisper so quiet that Akaashi isn’t even sure he heard him right, but there's no mistaking the look in his eyes.

 _Affection._ Ah damn. All of these warnings for nothing.

_Do something._

His laughter dies down quickly after his brain catches up with everything that’s happening here, the waves of feelings, the beating of his own heart. Control, he needs some control, as fake as it is- He blinks and starts moving; taking the lube and condoms out of the bedside table, throwing them next to Osamu’s head before he stands up. 

“You wanna take advantage of being in the home of an omega?”

“What do you mean?”

Akaashi smiles, tries to look menacing. He walks towards the dresser, and rummages through old clothes he doesn’t wear anymore, retrieving a large blue metal box. 

“Want to use some toys?”

The look on Osamu’s face is priceless. 

──

They end up choosing the smallest vibrating plug Akaashi owns. Osamu doesn’t seem scared at all, curious, if nothing else. He even seems to forget about it for a while, when Akaashi starts kissing him again, caressing his scent glands with his thumb, grinding against his thigh as if he was the only one chasing his own orgasm. And Osamu’s cock lays, neglected on his stomach, leaking profusely, more and more, the wetter his thigh becomes from the slick coming out of Akaashi’s ass. 

“Akaashi-” he moans, but gets silenced by the other man’s mouth. 

He finally manoeuvres the alpha, so that he’s laying down on the mattress, thighs spread, knees up, giving him a clear view of exactly how aroused he is, of exactly how wet his left thigh is too. He patiently pours lube on his fingers, and starts warming it up, before slowly sliding his index finger in. Osamu tenses beneath him, letting out a moan that sounds like _finally._ It doesn’t take a lot of time for him to start pushing back against his fingers; 

“Fuck- more, _more-_ ” 

“We’re getting there,” he promises, kissing the tender skin of his thigh, withdrawing his two fingers, proceeding to add a third one.

“ _Yesyesyesss-_ ”

His whole body jolts up, and Akaashi has to put his hand on his hip to stop him from moving- 

“Stop moving,” he says, but when Osamu ends up moving anyway, rolling his hips, trying to get him to touch his prostate, Akaashi pulls his hand away, pushing his hip down with his free one. 

“What the- No!” Osamu glares at him in a cry; and Akaashi smiles back wickedly. 

“I told you to stop moving.”

“Ugh- _Akaashi._ ”

The omega shakes his head, and rises up to his knees, looking at the sweating mess that is now Osamu’s body, “I won’t move, I promise, _please_.”

But Akaashi knows better (okay, maybe he doesn’t, but still), and comes closer to Osamu’s face, making him sit up a bit, just enough so that his head rests against the pillows, parallel to the headboard. 

“Not sure I can trust you on that,” he teases, his index finger wandering from his chest to his twitching length, “you’re going to stay like this, and you’re going to eat me out while I finger you. At least you won’t be able to move again.”

If Osamu’s eyes were burning before, they’re now not far from being two small nuclear explosions. 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, _fuck yes, come here._ ” 

He really likes to be ordered around, Akaashi thinks when he plants one last kiss on his lips before turning away, resting on his knees. He doesn’t even have the time to take the lube; he can already feel Osamu’s arm pulling him back against his face. He gently bites his ass cheeks, making Akaashi instinctively roll his hips against his mouth, before his tongue starts lapping at the space between both cheeks in long drags that make moans erupt from Akaashi’s throat, _fuckfuckfuCK, get a grip._

Finally, his hand finds the lube; and he can go back to stretching the alpha again, his own rhythm now mirroring the movements of Osamu’s tongue against his entrance. And if the alpha starts moving his hips, his weight prevents him from jolting up like before.

“More, please ‘Kaashi I want to try- Oh _shit_ ,” he doesn’t finish his sentence, because Akaashi curls his fingers inside him.

But the message is received. 

His hand leaves Osamu’s ass, and he quickly locates the condoms behind him; puts one over the plug, not even noticing that the alpha has stopped licking at his entrance to look at what’s going on. 

“You ready?” he asks, and Osamu hand tightening on his thigh as he whispers a small _‘fuck yes.'_

The plug is not _small,_ since he uses it during his heats, it has to stretch him at least a bit, so he pushes it in slowly, feeling Osamu’s entire body tensing with each passing millimetre; it only gets wider and wider and his rim stretches around it beautifully, making Akaashi moan quietly. 

“It’s almost in,” he informs the alpha, “you’re taking it so well, Osamu.”

“Fuck, stop talking, or I’ll come,” he lets out in a breath.

Akaashi laughs, but doesn’t answer, they wouldn’t want things to end here, right? He pushes the last millimetres in. The widest part of the plug is now in and the entire object is seated inside the alpha’s ass, only waiting to be activated. 

“I’ll wait a bit before turning it on, so you can get used to the stretch,” he says, kissing his thigh. 

But Osamu doesn’t seem to think that _getting used to the stretch_ means waiting immobile, because he puts his hands on Akaashi’s hips, and pulls him back again, burying his face between his cheeks, his tongue going straight inside him. 

“ _FUCK, deeper, go deeper,”_ and Osamu obeys, pulling him against his face to bury his tongue as far as possible. It’s wet, and warm against him, and he can feel his slick running down his thighs now, “Fingers- anh- harder _, Osamu, now.”_

And Osamu seems to understand, because two fingers enter him in one long movement, ripping a cry out of him- and he notices with horror that this single action almost (almost, okay?) made him come. 

“I won’t last long if you-” A third finger enters, brushing against his prostate, “ _Osamu-_ ” he warns; and the last coherent thing he does is pushing on the power button on the visible part of the plug, turning it on. 

Osamu’s cry is instantaneous, and his hips leave the mattress, not caring about Akaashi’s weight on him. The fingers inside him stop for a second, nested against his prostate and if that doesn’t make him come, Osamu’s hand wrapping around his cock does. The alpha joins him a few seconds later in a loud incoherent cry; losing the battle against the vibrations inside him.

He waits a few seconds before turning the device off, letting Osamu ride out his orgasm. 

“That was damn hot,” he mumbles once the plug is out of him, and Akaashi is done cleaning them up.

“Yeah, it was.”

Akaashi's head falls to rest against Osamu's chest, kissing the skin of his throat, his jaw, before snuggling under his armpit, closing his eyes.

“Mmmh, aren’t you supposed to go to work tomorrow morning?” Osamu quietly asks a few minutes later, his face now buried in his hair, obviously unhappy about the perspective of having to move. 

“Aren’t _you_ supposed to have class?” 

“I don’t have classes on Monday.”

“Lucky you,” Akaashi mumbles against his chest, “I got a new job. They’re more tolerant with heats there. My boss told me I could take my weekend and Monday off.”

Osamu sighs happily, gently scratching Akaashi’s scalp, finally closing his eyes, and he must be as glad as the omega that they can simply lay here, in peaceful silence, for a few hours more. 

“That’s good news.”

They fall asleep, and it’s not even eleven p.m. yet.

Akaashi is slightly snoring against his ribs when Osamu’s phone starts buzzing obnoxiously loud, making the both of them jump. There’s a quite big feeling of _panic_ that overwhelms him for a second; then the terrible thought _‘that’s karma for sleeping with him without being in heat.’_

─✷─

_9-Year-Old Sad That Father’s iPad Moving Out_

by **Miya Osamu**

─✷─

He jolts up when he hears Atsumu’s designated ringtone. If there’s _one_ sound that would make him wake up, it’s this one. It means _trouble._ Well, usually. But not today.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASSHOLE!!!!” Atsumu screams in his ear, making Osamu jump again.

“Happy birthday to you too, fucker.”

“What are you doing?”

“I was- sleeping. I’ll be coming home in a few hours, don’t worry, you can celebrate with Sakusa a bit more. I’m sure you would have thrown me out of the flat anyway.”

“Nice, nice, yeah, Sakusa, you heard? We can keep going- Hey, where are you even?” Atsumu asks, “Still at that omega’s Sakusa told me about?”

“Yeah, his- his heat isn’t stopping,” Osamu says, avoiding Akaashi’s hard stare. Liar, liar, your pants and your heart are on fire. 

“Well, have fun then!”

“You too, and don’t you dare fuck on my bed.”

“Hm, yeah, sure, we won’t. See ya!” and his brother hangs up. 

He’s always the one who hangs up. That’s what being such a busy man does to you. Osamu groans, and puts his phone back on the bedside table before slowly turning his head to meet Akaashi’s furious glare.

“It’s your _birthday?_ ”

Osamu shrugs, “yeah.”

“You idiot,” Akaashi sighs, rolling over him to pull him back on the mattress. “Happy birthday, Osamu.” 

His temple is brushing Osamu’s, and they kiss lazily. The faint glow from the street lights piercing through the window is enough for him to see Akaashi’s eyes, and recognize what’s burning in there: _affection._

──

Do you know what’s worse than having sex with no heat to justify your actions? Having sex with no heat to justify your actions **in the fucking morning.**

It started with Akaashi mumbling _‘you’re staring’,_ Osamu replying _‘it’s because you’re worth staring at’_ and it escalated from there. 

So, now he’s back to being pressed against the mattress, Akaashi sitting on his cock, and bouncing on it, his covered throat tense as he moans to the ceiling. There’s slick everywhere, on his fingers, on his thighs, on his stomach after Akaashi dragged his body against every available limb, when they were lazily making out while still being half asleep. But they’re very awake now, and even more so once Akaashi stops moving, only taking him _deep_ , rolling his hips with a vicious smile;

“What are- _oh shit._ ”

He didn’t know that particular purple dildo came with a remote controller, but Akaashi is looking at him with his eyebrows raised in a silent question, remote in hand, and just the perspective of what’s about to happen makes him _harder._

“Fuck- yes, please, please,” he asks, very much still on edge after a good hour of dry humping each other. 

“You’re taking it so well,” Akaashi whispers, and he falls ahead, his mouth coming to kiss his bare neck, “it’s my favourite, it’s _so big,_ almost as big as you.”

Osamu doesn’t have the time, or the brain cells needed to answer, simply blacks out when Akaashi pushes on the power button, his fingers curling, his throat burning from the moan that rips out of it. 

“That’s it, Osamu, let go.”

It takes exactly five waves of rising vibrations for him to come, his knot swelling inside the omega as Akaashi keeps bouncing on his cock in a loud cry. 

──

There’s a particular feeling in his chest, the one that overtakes you on the last day of holidays, on the last afternoon hours of Sundays, on the last moment you spend with someone you’ll have to leave soon, without knowing if you’re going to see them again. It’s one of these airport-departure-terminals feelings.

Osamu hates it.

He sips his coffee, eyes closed, with Akaashi curled against him on the couch, angrily typing something for his boss (who happens to be Suna, believe it or not; what weird coincidence, he still has to process this information).

It’s only pushing back the inevitable, he’ll have to leave eventually, but none of them seems to want to acknowledge this. They stay silent, smile at each other, kiss each other as if they hadn’t broken _so many implied rules_ in the last three days.

It’s a text from Atsumu that finally pierces their bubble.

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Atsumu**

_r u coming back soon?_

_omi baked a cake i dont want to eat it alone_

_it looks kinda weird pls help me_

└──────────────────┘

He should have laughed, but his throat is too tight for him to even manage to smile.

“I think I should go. Atsumu’s waiting for me.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Osamu promptly stands up, going back to the bedroom to gather the clothes he left there, takes the coat from the kitchen chair, and unplugs his phone from Akaashi’s white battery charger. When he’s got everything, he comes back to the living room where the omega is cleaning the coffee table. When the last mug is brought to the sink, Akaashi comes back, standing in front of him.

They look at each other, blue eyes drowning in light grey for a while before their lips crash, desperate against each other; they don’t break apart before they’re both gasping for air, and Osamu takes the other man’s face between his hands, kissing the tip of his nose, the crease between his eyes, his forehead. His lips linger there for a few seconds.

“Osamu, I- I-”

“Shhh,” he says- doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to even know what he wants to say. 

He moves away, walking closer to the door, now desperately wanting to just- just _leave_ ; he’s not going to break down, but if he does, he’d appreciate it if he could do it in private. He puts his shoes on, carefully avoiding Akaashi’s eyes. His mind is set on a mission: getting out of here as soon as possible, so he can process, so he can decide what he’s going to do.

A hand lands on his arm when he reaches for the doorknob. 

There’s only a certain amount of resolve in his body, and Akaashi seems like he's determined to challenge it. Osamu finally stops on his track, turning away from the door, gaze dropping on the omega’s closed off face.

“Thank you, for everything,” he says, blue eyes catching his for a moment before dropping shut, “I-”

Slender fingers nonchalantly leave the doorknob to slide over Akaashi’s pale face, his right thumb caressing the plump of his cheekbone. 

“It’s alright, Akaashi,” he murmurs, looking at him with as much softness as he can muster, “you don’t have to say anything.”

A smile appears at the corners of the omega’s lips, bearing what Osamu can recognize as being infinite sadness; their small bubble has exploded, and in the small infinite space of this bubble, they had the chance to see, hear, feel what they _could be._ And it is with infinite sadness, matching the extent of their tiny intimate universe, that Akaashi smiles at him. 

The glass of their little snow globe closes around their memories, ready to be put on the shelves at the back of their minds, for only them to see, for only them to remember. 

Their foreheads slowly meet, a single touch, only reminiscent of lost more heated ones. Naturally, their lips meet next, soft and gentle; he feels his breath against his cupid’s bow first, the warmth of his lips against his second, the ghost of a feeling in his heart third. 

It feels like a first kiss;

like discovering what their hearts were created for, 

_to love;_

It feels like a last kiss;

like discovering what their hearts were beating for, 

_to break._

The line has been crossed, both of them know it, it’s not a realization, though.

It feels more like acceptance.

──

He ends up breaking down over Sakusa’s half burnt apple crumble ( _‘it looks kinda weird’_ my ass). The tears don’t come to the border of his eyelids, but they’re right there, swelling his heart, in melancholy for a past that he would never go back to. 

And so, he grieves, silently, his eyes dry.

“So, you’re going to tell us why you smell like Akaa-”

“Atsumu.”

Surprisingly, Sakusa is the one who interrupts Atsumu, clearly sensing that something’s wrong, that there are more things to be discussed here than the mere scent of Akaashi all over Osamu. His voice is deep, exhausted in the way the syllables are pronounced.

“What?” 

“It’s nothing, Kiyoomi, but thanks-” Osamu tries, but Atsumu’s an impatient idiot and he. wants. answers.

“What the hell?” Atsumu’s eyes jump from his brother to his boyfriend slash colleague slash friend with benefits or whatever.

Osamu takes a deep breath.

He tells him everything. The first time he went to that hotel room to help Akaashi, making it clear who _the omega who pulled at his hair_ was; tells him about the second time, about Konoha’s birthday party and the _interesting discovery_ he made that day; tells him about his last weekend, and how his discovery happened to become an actual _preference_ of his, something he might want to do again. Finally, he tells him about his feelings, the stupid hope, the familiarity; how easy it was to just go back to the simple sensation of _belonging._

“I guess it’s just like Semi all over again,” he finally whispers.

“No, it’s not,” Atsumu shakes his head, light-blond curls flying along with his movements. 

Deep down, he knows he’s right; deep down, he knows that he ended up liking Akaashi more than he liked Semi, that he’s more than _just an omega_ to him, he’s more than just a pleasant company and some familiar comfort. 

Maybe that’s what ‘ _right person, wrong time’_ feels like, after all. 

“Have you tried telling him how you feel?”

“He’s pretty clear about only wanting a heat partner. But I think this weekend definitely fucked everything up,” he sighs, “because it felt less like a business arrangement, and more like a relationship.”

Sakusa and Atsumu exchange a couple of looks, before one of them dares to speak (and Osamu can see the whole irony of this, because who even goes to the fuckiest fucked-up version of friends-with-benefits you can find, to ask them for advice about being friends-with-benefits with someone you’re probably-maybe-90%-surely already in love with?) 

“You know, after Semi- what’s the thing you’re always telling me? That I shouldn’t die for my fights or some shit, but you always tell me that I _‘have the right to breathe and don’t have to suffocate all the time_ ’” Atsumu mimics Osamu high-horsey tone, but he looks more serious than ever, “you’re suffocating right now, because you stopped breathing four years ago. But you have the right to breathe, and if he ends up choking you- well you might end up liking it.”

His grin is infuriating, but Osamu can’t help but shake his head in disbelief. 

“What he means is that you can get lost into this complicated maze, we’ll be there if it ends in a heartbreak. But he might have the same type of crisis right now, and when he calls you back, be it for a heat or not, you should talk to him about it.”

Sakusa smiles faintly at him. It always looks weird on him, but that’s only because he remembers him from their time back in high school.

“And if he breaks your heart, I’ll throw an arrow at his head,” Atsumu says, before biting into a piece of crumble with a grimace.

Osamu rolls his eyes, his heart feeling a bit lighter than before. 

After feeling his heart break in his chest once again after three years of careful healing, 

Osamu finally starts breathing again.

##  _— end of part i ._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> the burnt crumble....... if you know, you know.
> 
> i hope you liked it aaaaa, i had so much fun writing this chapter!  
> so this is the end of part i. there will be an interlude and then we'll start part ii, yeeeeeeha!
> 
> note: akaashi doesn't remember suna from high school bc suna was in heat when inarizaki played fukurodani.
> 
> now im going back to my switch.  
> 


	7. Treehouse Dryer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dad is akaashi. hairdresser is osamu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOOOOOOOD EVENING!  
> just on time to meet my "next week" publication schedule!!!  
> this chapter is an interlude between the two parts, where we're exploring other characters, and a bit of how other family dynamics work, i think??
> 
> \- klaudia, i hope you're enjoying haiji's company, he's the best boy!!!!!!
> 
> i made research on new years in japan but i am not japanese, so im sorry for innacuracies, i had to work with tourism websites and youtube videos.  
> i used some specific terms, so if you're not familiar with nye tradition in japan, here you go!  
> -hatsuhinode: the first sunrise of the year in Japan  
> -hatsumode: the first shrine visit of the year.  
> -omikuji: random fortunes written on strips of paper at shrines. "sacred lot", these are usually received by making a small offering and randomly choosing one from a box, hoping for the resulting fortune to be good.

##  _interlude._

**CHAPTER 7.**

─✷─

_Area Dad Just Sort Of Assumed He Could Build Treehouse. _

by **Akaashi Keiji**

─✷─

_october 2020_

Akaashi is sitting on the couch in his best friend’s living room; Konoha’s head is heavy on his thigh despite it being so empty most of the time. 

“Care to help?” he mumbles, the string of his earphone resting between his pinched lips. 

“Nah, you’re doing wonderful all alone, on your own, like the big grown up that you are.”

Konoha’s head is definitely too heavy resting on his thigh for the few cerebral matters that reside inside of his skull. (Or maybe Akaashi’s the dumb one for always doing everything for him) (but he refuses to consider the fact that his best friend might have been using him for so many years because he’s too lazy to move).

He’s currently too busy trying to keep Konoha’s phone in a vertical position on the table to really care anyway. The device is standing against Konoha’s favourite cactus, which surely has to be a new one because it is still green and alive. The issue here is that: the cactus is new, and therefore, it’s _small_. Way too small to allow Konoha’s phone to correctly stand against it at least. And so, it keeps slipping, falling in a pathetic horizontal position, black screen mockingly reflecting Akaashi’s annoyed face. 

“Maybe you should try to put it against something taller,” Konoha suggests in the most natural way, as if his face wasn’t currently squished under Akaashi’s belly as he tries to make his stupid phone stand. 

“You’re such a genius, Aki, I wonder what the world would do without you.”

“Is it that bad if we don’t see his face?”

“No, but he won’t see ours, and then he’ll complain, and we’ll have to hold it in our hands. And since I’ll be the one doing it, it’s a _no.”_

Konoha groans and finally sits up with a long moan, moving to go crouch over the armchair of his couch to fumble in the drawer of the side table. He takes out a small wooden thing and hands it to Akaashi with a completely neutral face as if he did _not just do that._

“You had a phone holder, next to you, all along.”

“It was too funny looking at you failing, it doesn’t happen much anymore.”

Looking at the phone holder, Akaashi realises it has the perfect size to be shoved down Konoha’s throat. But from the information he managed to gather (by sitting next to drunk _and_ sober Konoha for too many years of friendship), he knows his best friend has a (quote) _fantastic gag reflex_ (unquote). So maybe the phone holder would be too small to really create any inconvenience for him. 

The spiky cactus would be a good alternative though. 

Oh, Akaashi’s the one eyeing the cactus now. 

How ironic.

┌───────────────────────┐

Incoming Call:

_Bokuto Koutarou_

└───────────────────────┘

People always expect Akaashi to be the mediator between the former members of Fukurodani. If this might have been true at some point in their teenage lives, the physical distance between Bokuto and the two of them when he left for Osaka had made their captain the ultimate mediator between Akaashi and Konoha, who had the great idea of living together during their college years. 

Things have changed since high school, between sober fights and drunken apologies, the three of them have grown; irremediably. 

But other things (Bokuto’s loud voice; Konoha’s inability to stay still without rhythmically tapping his fingers on a flat surface; Akaashi’s frequent looks at an invisible camera like he’s on _The Office_ ) have stayed the same; more or less unfortunately. 

“KEIJI! AKINORI! HI!” Bokuto’s smiling face appears on the screen. He’s sitting on his bed, clearly holding his phone in his hand (which shouldn’t be an issue for him, being a pro-volleyball player and everything; he’s got the necessary muscles).

“Hello Koutarou,” Akaashi waves at him.

“Hey.” Konoha’s flaccid voice still brings an enormous smile on Bokuto’s lips.

The train ride between Kōbe and Bokuto’s flat in Higashiōsaka is less than two hour long; it’s not unusual for the three of them to simply meet for the weekend at Konoha’s apartment after Akaashi comes back from the Center and Bokuto is done with practice. 

So, Bokuto’s absence next to them on the couch is particularly loud. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come this weekend, something came up,” Bokuto quickly mumbles.

_Something._

Bokuto is never vague, unless he’s hiding something, and Konoha’s burning eyes on the side of Akaashi’s head tell him there’s definitely something hidden behind this _something._ And Konoha’s never wrong for this type of thing. His eyebrows also raise a question: _something,_ or _someone?_

Which leads his mind to think about his own _someone_ he’s trying to hide from Konoha's gossipy nature.

And when Akaashi instinctively brings his thumb to his mouth to rip a piece of skin off, without even noticing that he’s doing it, he’s stopped midair, Konoha’s fingers laced around his wrist in a firm grip. He’s too surprised to fight against him, until the beta brings Akaashi’s thumb closer to his face and puts it directly in his mouth to suck on it with a loud noise.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” 

He pulls back, drying his thumb on the fabric of his shirt with a face of disgust.

“If you keep biting your skin off, you’ll be licking my saliva, and since you don’t want to kiss me, even indirectly, this will prevent you from harming yourself,” Konoha nods wisely.

“This actually makes sense,” Bokuto nods on the screen as if Konoha was making any sense.

Akaashi groans; that’s all Osamu’s fault. 

──

The reason for Bokuto’s absence becomes clear an hour after the start of their phone call, when someone rings his doorbell and Bokuto jolts up, pocketing his phone before leaving his bedroom in a hurry. 

“Sorry, I’ll be right back!”

“Nice butt, Kou!” Konoha comments. The screen has gone black, the camera lense obviously pressed against Bokuto’s ass in his sweatpants back pocket.

They hear a ruffled sound and Akaashi can only assume that it’s Bokuto lowering the volume down to avoid his visitor hearing Konoha’s nonsense. 

“Good afternoon, Bokuto.”

“Ah! Ushijima! Good afternoon!” 

There’s something in the cheeriness of this voice that sounds oddly _off._

“I came to bring back the things you forgot at the hotel room yesterday night.” Ushijima’s voice is the same as always, deep and neutral, announcing facts with no particular sugarcoat wrapped around his words. 

“Ah! Yes, _yes,_ thank you very much!”

Another ruffled sound of Bokuto obviously taking whatever Ushijima is handing him. Akaashi is staring at the black screen, hypotheses quickly forming in his brain when Konoha elbows him, making him turn his head slowly. 

_What the hell?_ he silently articulates.

Akaashi shrugs, but the two men are now talking about Ushijima’s plans to go back to Tokyo on the next day and there’s really nothing interesting in that conversation. 

He doesn’t remember thinking about Ushijima during the last past _years,_ maybe briefly when Bokuto and Sakusa ended up next to each other on Konoha’s birthday, the three of them being top aces and all, but that's all. He’s seen him playing against Bokuto once, but there is absolutely _no_ reason for Bokuto and Ushijima to _hang out_ and even less for Bokuto to be in Ushijima’s _hotel room._

They’re not friends. 

Akaashi knows Bokuto’s friends, at least by their names; he knows who Bokuto hangs out with on a daily basis. And if he doesn’t know about someone, Konoha usually does.

And Konoha looks absolutely as lost as he does right now. Except there’s an invisible beaming light around his entire body, something that resembles water simmering just before it starts to boil. 

_Excitement._

Of course, in Konoha Akinori’s dirty mind, the only reason why Ushijima and Bokuto could have met in a hotel room during the night- doing activities involving Bokuto forgetting stuff there- would be _sex._

But that’s Konoha Akinori’s dirty mind.

And Akaashi prides himself in his ability to think _outside the box._ He does. But late training sessions _in a hotel room,_ platonic partying _in a hotel room,_ business dinner between two people who are not even friends _in a hotel room,_ none of these sound even remotely plausible, even for the prudest of minds.

No, people do two things in hotel rooms: they sleep, or they fuck.

Ask Akaashi, he would know. 

“MSBY is coming to play in Tokyo in a few weeks,” Bokuto finally says, which makes both Konoha and Akaashi go back to attentively listening to their friend’s conversation.

“I’d be happy to let you stay at mine, but I’m sure you will have a more than acceptable hotel room.”

Konoha’s hand comes to grab his arm; his fingers tightening as he tries his best not to scream with excitement. And frankly, even Akaashi has a hard time not to smile too wide; if he’s been living with a quite non-existent sex life for years (before Osamu came into his life, that is), Bokuto has been pretty much the same. At least, from what they know. 

Between work, his disastrous relationships with the few women who warmed his sheets back when he was still in college, his passion for volleyball and his new therapeutic passion for knitting scarves or other items of clothing, his life has always been too busy to accomodate to someone else’s needs. 

Another professional volleyball player might be a match made in heaven. 

“We could meet for dinner on Saturday night after the match, though? I’m staying in Tokyo to visit my parents. If you’d like.”

“I’d love to.”

“Okay. Can I text you the details later? I’ll send them at least a week before, don’t worry.”

“That would be perfect, thank you very much.”

“Thank you for bringing my clothes back.”

_THANK YOU FOR BRINGING MY CLOTHES BACK????????_

This time Konoha simply cannot physically stop himself from screaming. It’s short, quickly muffled behind his hand, but it still hits Akaashi’s eardrums like a cyclone. His tinnitus definitely didn’t need this; but yeah, he gets the feeling. 

It takes a few seconds for them to come back to themselves. A few seconds which were exactly what Ushijima needed to leave and for Bokuto to go back to his bed. When they start paying attention to the phone sitting on the table again, Bokuto’s face is back on the screen.

“So,” Akaashi is the first one to speak, popping the bubble of awkward silence surrounding them. 

“Yeah,” Bokuto answers, not meeting his eyes.

Realistically, Akaashi knows he won’t have to add anything because someone is going to explode; either Konoha who’s currently fuming next to him, a literal volcano trying to hold his lava inside of his boyd, or Bokuto who _needs_ to fill silences with either really long rants about things that are too personal, or small talk that rings in Akaashi’s ears like white noise. But this time, he can feel the silence extending, extending, extending-

“So that was Ushijima,” Akaashi starts again, trying to get Konoha to cooperate. As impulsive and insensitive as he can be, he’s also the best person to make a silence feel less awkward; 

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Konoha is literally shaking next to him, but he’s holding everything back, a silent furnace on Akaashi’s right side. It’s a weird occurrence, but sometimes, when things are serious enough, even Konoha manages to swallow back his lava. He might be impulsive, and sometimes too blunt, but not totally deprived of moral decency.

“I- Uhm.”

“We won’t judge, Kou,” is the first thing that Konoha finally says, his face still a bit red from holding back his breath for so long. “I _swear,”_ which, in Konoha language means _‘or at least I won’t let you know.’_

“The Adlers had a match in Osaka yesterday and some MSBY members were invited to the after game party because Kageyama invited us and-” 

Akaashi has always known both Konoha and Bokuto to be shameless people, who could talk about their feelings or their sex life pretty easily. Konoha because he’s always been like that once you get through the sarcastic jokes; Bokuto because he started seeing a therapist who helped him get more in sync with his emotions. 

And yet, they’re still staring at each other as if they were waiting for the other to start talking.

“-and you two had sex,” Akaashi is the one who finally says it, because for some reason, Konoha is slightly less bold than usual. 

“Yes,” Bokuto admits in a short breath, eyes fleeing again. 

“And what’s wrong with that?” Konoha tilts his head; and Akaashi doesn’t really know if he’s really wondering or if it’s to make Bokuto sort it out out loud. 

“Well- First of all he’s a _man._ ” 

His friend visibly stiffens next to him, and Akaashi suddenly remembers that not so long ago, they were all having this exact same conversation on this couch with Konoha when he first had sex with another man.

“ _And_ he’s an alpha so- I just- I don’t know, it feels _wrong,_ but at the same time- I don’t know.”

To be honest, even Akaashi had thought for a long time that Bokuto would end up with a woman, probable a beta, or an omega. Something traditional. 

“Are you serious about him, though? Sometimes you can have sex with someone and that’s it,” Konoha suggests.

But they both heard Bokuto suggesting Ushijima and he could _have dinner in Tokyo._ And none of them is delusional enough to think _Bokuto_ and his heart made of glass could ever have a strictly sexual relationship with anyone. 

Even Akaashi failed miserably at that, so there’s no doubt that Bokuto would fall in love after the second date.

“It’s not like it can be serious anyway. We’re both alphas. We can’t- have a stable relationship; I’m not an omega, he probably won’t want me and-”

“You can’t know that though,” Konoha deadpans. 

“Yeah,” Akaashi adds, “I know some alphas who date other alphas, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know!” Bokuto interjects, “I know there’s nothing _wrong,_ but I feel like it is- and it doesn’t matter because even if I’m okay with it, he probably isn’t.”

“Did he say anything that would make you believe that?” Konoha frowns.

“No! No, he was into it _._ But you know how it goes.”

“You know, it’s not necessarily a bad thing that you’re not an omega; at least you won’t have all that bonded bullshit at least,” Akaashi notes and Konoha turns his head in his direction, eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs. 

“It just happened so fast-” Bokuto whispers.

“Don’t overthink it,” Konoha shrugs and sees both his best friends looking at him with telepathic eyerolls, because _he_ definitely over-over-overthought it when he was in Bokuto’s shoes. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but- I mean- it’s not like you’re going to start a family tomorrow. Have dinner with him in Tokyo and then you’ll see if he’s interested in a relationship, and if you find out that you’re still into alphas after that, you’ll deal with the consequences and everything- there’s no need to panic right now.”

“But I’m panicking!” Bokuto whines.

_Fair enough._

Alpha men having sex isn’t rare as such, but their relationships are always pictured as unstable, based on hormones instead of _bonds._ They might not face the same issues as omega couples, and are usually on top of the list when it comes to adopting children- but still, it’s not always easy.

“You could try talking about it with Aran,” Konoha finally suggests after a few seconds of silence. “Apparently he dated his high school captain for a few years. They broke up because it wasn’t working anymore, but they were both alphas and it had nothing to do with that.”

“I think it might be a good idea to talk about it with someone who has been through it, yeah.” Akaashi agrees, “Even if Ushijima doesn’t end up being the one, do you think you’d still be interested in other alphas?”

“I guess?” Bokuto shrugs, “I don’t know, maybe? It doesn’t really matter to me, I think.”

Akaashi smiles softly at the screen; with all the confidence Bokuto gained through the years, even he sometimes forgets that he’s still human, who still has to face his own fears and heavy doubts. 

His mind drifts for a second to think about Sakusa. After the few hours they’ve spent together, he could say the man was one of the most _at-ease-with-himself_ person he met in a long time, rivaling only Konoha. 

But he’s sure Bokuto will reach this state of peace as well, one day. 

“You can talk to Aran, I’m sure he’ll be happy to help. I mean- he has been through it too.” 

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Don’t let yourself believe that you’re alone in this; there are plenty of alphas having healthy relationships with other alphas out there.” 

How can Konoha go from acting like a convulsing volcano to behaving like a-century-old wise oak? 

“Yeah, I’m going to text Aran and see if he wants to have lunch with me after practice tomorrow! You’re right.” 

Bokuto might not be a stranger to doubts, but he still falls back on his feet faster than any of them. 

──

“So do you think this is going to work?” Konoha asks once they’ve hung up.

“I don’t see Ushijima as the one-night-stand type,” is the only thing Akaashi can say. If it’s going to work, he doesn’t know- but they don’t have anything to lose. At least it doesn’t seem like an upcoming disaster.

But he also thought Miya Osamu was the type to only do one-night-stands and _here he fucking is._

“Yeah. I think it might work between them,” Konoha agrees, eyes thoughtful. 

Akaashi nods, quickly going through the notifications he missed during the phone call. There’s nothing worth catching his attention until Konoha starts speaking and he starts wishing there was an emergency somewhere.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Still not interested in relationships?”

“I still don’t have the time for these.”

“Hmmmm.”

Akaashi is the one sitting the closest to the cactus: he has a definite advantage. 

“Are you still hooking up with random alphas or are you back to your good old dildos?”

Shameless.

It’s a tragedy that the cactus is so small.

“Why? Do you want to help me?” 

“Fuck no! We both know you don’t do well with betas.”

Not totally untrue. The few betas he hooked up with were only wannabe alphas who tried to make him submit- thanks, but no thanks.

“Well, I don’t do well with omegas either, so I have two choices: risking getting claimed by a random alpha by accident or go through my heats with my loyal toys, and at least I can throw them away easily if they come too close to my throat.”

“But you’re into alphas.”

Akaashi looks at him with all the exasperation he has in his body. Is he? Does it matter? He never liked having sex with omegas, never met a beta who treated him like he wanted to- at least alphas had knots. 

“Alpha, beta or omega, it doesn’t matter because I am not into _feelings.”_

“So boring,” Konoha rolls his eyes.

“I have other interests.”

“Oh yeah? Which ones? You’re working so hard, fighting so much, that you have to take medications for your stress-induced gastritis. Also, you take suppressants and anxiolytics. You don’t have other interests, you have _one obsession_ that is both your job and your hobby but that has been digging your grave since you left high school.”

“You mean I should take up knitting like Bokuto?” he spits with a cold stare, and he can almost _see_ the temperature rising between them; and of course, Konoha doesn’t back off, he never does.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should!”

“I’m fine! I’m not like-” _Bokuto._

“You’re about to say something that you’re going to regret, think wisely about what you’re about to say,” Konoha cuts him off, voice growing colder.

“Yeah,” he whispers, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Konoha agrees, not even trying to make him feel better about the whole thing, which he can’t really blame him for. “Listen, I know I will never understand. And I know I’ve been telling you this for what seems like forever- but you can’t keep up like this. I’m not telling you to find yourself a boyfriend, but do something else than working and volunteering at the Center. It’s pretty much the same thing now anyway.” 

“I part-”

“And coming here to party once every two weeks is not a hobby, Akaashi, _goddamnit_!”

“Yeah, right.”

“You don’t seem like the knitting type. I’m taking dance lessons, if you’re interested.”

“No thank you, I have enough with my routine at the gym.”

“You’re working out?”

“My boss works out at the gym on the other side of our building, so we go there during our lunch break.”

“That’s nice. I didn’t know.”

“Suna’s a good boss. He helps me a lot with all the _overworking_ stuff.”

Konoha finally hums. 

They both know it’ll be a tough fight; they’ve been fighting each other on this for _years_. 

But maybe it was Suna’s warning, _‘it doesn’t matter how noble the fight is, it is not worth dying for it’_ or Osamu’s words, _‘some fights are worth fighting for, they are; but they are not necessarily worth dying for’_ but something finally clicked, the first wheel of an intricate mechanism finally starting to move in his brain. 

“It’s a good start.”

“Yeah.”

“But you should think about finding someone.”

“I’m fine alone, Aki.” Maybe it’s a lie, maybe he actually likes Osamu’s arms around him more than he’s willing to admit, maybe he’s craving the embrace every night. But the simple thought of being tied to someone- giving up his freedom- 

“I understand. Well- I don’t, but I’m sure that if I was an omega, I would be a lot more careful too.”

“I’m not ready to be tied to someone who will ultimately want to claim me as a mate for life; I don’t know if I will ever be, but for now, the only thing I know is that I can’t afford to let anyone- I can’t be someone’s _omega._ That’s all.”

“Maybe you should try knitting.”

“No, but you’re right, I need to find a hobby or something to- something else to do.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

At least if he goes back to his high school hobbies, he won’t have time to think about the other thing Konoha has been bothering him with for years; he won’t have to think about relationships; about Osamu.

──

_november 2020 _

Akaashi is sitting at his desk, head in his hands, at the Center on a Saturday afternoon when someone knocks on the door. The sun is still high in the sky and his brain is slightly buzzing from the lack of sleep, so it takes two knocks before he actually registers what’s happening. 

“Yes?”

Kuroo opens the door slowly, his head appearing in the slight opening.

“Someone is here to speak with you, if you’re free,” the doctor announces with a polite smile, the one he puts up when it’s not just the two of them and he has to remain professional. 

Akaashi nods, he’s only working on already ongoing files, so he doesn’t have any meetings today, except for potential emergencies. The door opens wider, allowing him to see the person standing behind the Kuroo. 

Thank god for the twin’s different hair colours because he probably would have fainted otherwise. 

“Atsumu,” Akaashi greets the politician with an easy smile. 

He can immediately feel the stress slide down his shoulders. Atsumu is probably not here to give him a new case to work on, which is something he definitely doesn’t need at the moment.

Remembering now that they were supposed to get lunch together, he never contacted him again. Hence, his presence in his office.

“Akaashi,” Atsumu replies with his immaculate smile, the one that screams manipulation and faked overconfidence, but it’s not like they don’t know each other by now. So Akaashi can see through it, and Atsumu probably knows that.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He gestures to him to take a seat, nodding towards Kuroo, indicating that it’s okay for him to leave. The alpha is wearing formal clothes, so different from the hoodie he was wearing at Konoha’s party, so he can assume that this is something _serious_ , or maybe work related. 

_Has something happened to Osamu?_ the thought crosses his mind before he manages to bury it under a nice coat of denial.

“I am here as a representative of the Prefectural Assembly.” 

Nothing personal then. 

Work. 

Good.

He doesn’t know what Osamu told his brother about their involvement. For all he knows, Atsumu could as well not know anything, or know _too much._ So it’s better to play it safe. Stay professional. 

“Okay.”

“I’m going to go straight to the point. The Governor and his majority at the Prefectural Assembly want to implement the Shibuya certificates system in the prefecture and we need you to back us up.”

Akaashi’s eyes sharpen immediately as soon as he hears _Shibuya certificates_ , realising where Atsumu is leading him; _the Shibuya system._

A trick local authorities found to grant omega couples some sort of legal protection. Not a marriage _per se,_ but an efficient shield nonetheless. It exists in most prefectures for alphas but has always been denied to omegas, except for some _cities._ Recognized by most governmental institutions once they’re implemented, even by some private companies, this system would allow city councils from the entire prefecture to grant omega couples legally recognized civil partnership certificates. 

A silent battle between progressive local authorities and the more conservative national government who never managed to efficiently challenge this system.

“What do you need me for?” he finally asks, after thinking for a few seconds, knowing full well this project, whatever it is, is going to take him a lot of time.

A lot of time he doesn’t necessarily have.

Konoha’s cactus is growing and he knows he’s going to get hit with it the second he tells him he’s going to add a new activity to his schedule.

“We’re going to need as much support as we can. The opposition is already complaining behind doors, but the Governor and our party are ready to fight to implement the Shibuya system here. They surely will get mad about it.”

“I see.”

Atsumu is right. There is no avoiding protests, no avoiding conservative people from spitting right in the face of omega couples for being untraditional, unnatural, harmful to society. He can already see the mess approaching. Sensing his hesitation, Atsumu sighs and sits back against the back of his chair, expression voluntarily open, almost vulnerable. 

Too bad for him, Akaashi knows what a vulnerable Miya really looks like by now. 

“You’ve been working with omegas in need for years, Akaashi. I’m an alpha, and as much as I’d like to think I’d do a great job at carrying this text, I don’t think I can defend this regulation without your help. You understand them more than I do, because you meet them everyday. We’ll need the Center’s support, but I will need your personal help as well.”

Flattery.

Amusing. 

But despite the attitude, the obvious manipulation attempt, there’s sincerity in Atsumu’s words, fire in his eyes that he finds in other volunteers’ eyes too, a burning determination to do the right thing.

“Have you talked to the director about getting the Center involved?”

“She agreed to help as much as she could as long as it doesn’t put the people you help in danger. I respect that. But you’re the one I want to work with on this text.”

Akaashi sighs. 

Getting involved with a Miya when he’s purposefully trying to avoid the other sounds like a bad idea. 

A _really_ bad idea.

But he can’t reasonably refuse. 

Not when it’s going to be so beneficial for an entire community.

“Okay. I’ll help you. Here’s my number,” Akaashi says, handing him his business card. 

Atsumu takes the piece of paper and stands up, and Akaashi takes a long look at him, trying to perceive any sign of manipulation, any sign that he’d been lying. When he finds none of these signs, only tranquil warmth, in the depth of golden pools, he finally smiles and extends his hand to shake his.

“I’m working with the center most Saturdays, and I won’t give that up. But I can see with my boss if I can get time to help with this.”

Suna probably won’t mind him leaving his office a few hours earlier on one day, considering he’s been paying him extra for these particular hours anyway. Atsumu nods.

“Thank you,” Atsumu finally says. “If you have to take days off to attend our meetings, we’ll pay you. You won’t be working for free.”

“I’ll talk to Suna about it.”

Atsumu blinks rapidly, eyes shining with surprise before asking.

“Suna? Rintarou?” 

And the alpha seems genuinely surprised when Akaashi nods, fearing whatever thing is about to come. “Yes, he’s my boss.” He doesn’t really know if Suna was known in the political field or if he was blacklisted from Atsumu’s circle, but he’s definitely bracing yourself for what’s about to come-

“Oh! We went to highschool together. I’m sure he’ll let you leave if I ask him.” _I’ll make sure about it,_ he means. 

And that smile, that look, is what Akaashi identifies as the _big alpha energy_ he always expects from politicians, the look that says _I can pull some strings to get what I want_ , no matter what you think about it.

“I’d appreciate it if I could talk to him about it first.” Akaashi says with a firm tone. 

After years of dealing with alphas, he’s not going to let _Miya Atsumu_ undermine his career. Suna might not judge him for letting Atsumu fight for his own battles, but Oikwawa would have; also, Akaashi has too much pride to let him do this, as ridiculous as it is.

“Oh- Okay. Yes, of course, sorry if it was presumptuous of me.”

“If we’re going to work together, I’d appreciate it if you could treat me like any other alpha. I don’t need more help than any other person.”

“Of course.”

But old habits die hard, and Akaashi knows he will have to fight against Atsumu’s tendencies. _As long as he does his best, it’ll be fine, I guess._

“I’ll text you the details on our next meeting to see if you can attend.”

“I’ll text you once I have Suna’s approval.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you for trying to implement this text, Atsumu. I really think it’s a great thing you’re doing here.”

“You’ll thank me once the regulation is voted,” Atsumu smiles, and with this single smile, seeing the determination in his eyes, Akaashi knows he’s right to trust him with this.

“Of course.”

He walks him out of his office, thoughts twirling at a mile an hour. If he managed to get some rest since he started working with Suna, he knows his sleep schedule is bound to be fucked again. 

What a life.

But that’s not even what worries him the most. Working with Atsumu while desperately trying to avoid Osamu?

_Real smart move here, Keiji._

──

_ december 2020 _

Akaashi is sitting on his couch, pen scribbling notes on his already annotated notes when he starts shivering. _Great._ Heats are different for each omega, and if his own are particularly annoying and painful, at least the symptoms remain the same. 

He’s been home for one day, enjoying his mid-December heat break for twenty-four hours before the shivers start. His internal alarms start ringing; but it’s not like he hasn’t been expecting this. 

Standing up, he puts his notes on the pile of other documents he keeps in the drawer of his coffee table. The process is completely mechanical; his fridge is loaded with easy to heat up food, his files from work are put away in a closed drawer, water bottles are ready next to his bed, and his toys are all clean and waiting for him in a box next to his bed. 

Sighing, he opens the drawer under his couch to retrieve the blanket he usually keeps for his winter heats; it’s grey, and soft, and fluffy, and it smells like _home._ He still has a few hours before the _sexual_ needs start to hit, but his thoughts are already too fuzzy to focus on work related stuff. No, right now the only thing he can think about is _sleep, warmth, comfort._

Blanket now wrapped around his shoulders, he puts his glasses on the coffee table, takes his phone with him in his bedroom, just in case. He closes blinds, turns the string lights above his bed on and assesses the situation. 

His bed is just like any other thing in his life: practical, just comfortable enough for him to sleep well on a daily basis. But when it comes to heats, he needs more than _comfortable enough._ Searching inside the drawers of his dresser, he takes a ridiculous number of additional pillows and throws them on the bed, creating a pile that he’ll have to rearrange later. He throws the blanket on his shoulder there as well before several other blankets join the rest of the mess on the bed. 

_Practical_ stuff: check. 

Emotional stuff: to do. 

_Sleep, warmth, comfort._

Sleep will be taken care of soon; 

Warmth is a matter of pillows and blankets;

Comfort is another kind of problem completely. 

He used to not think about that particular need; heats are a burden first and foremost, meaning: it doesn’t matter if he’s feeling good or not, he should just go through it, make sure he doesn’t catch a cold (use blankets) and doesn’t end up too sleep deprived (sleep as much as possible between waves). But finally, after _years_ of just suffering through his heats, Akaashi finally acknowledged the _comfort_ he needed, the pull he’d been neglecting for so long. 

His wardrobe has a particular shelf that he dedicated to this two year ago. Which is probably the most embarrassing thing ever. But twice a year, for seven days, Akaashi is glad he’s putting his pride aside to collect these things. He takes them one by one and puts them on his bed, far away from the center, arranging the pillows in a roughly oval shape, leaving the blankets in a pile at the bottom of his bed.

They don’t smell like they used to when he collected them at first, but there’s a lingering scent of _comfort_ that he still clings to even when he just looks at them. 

His old Fukurodani jacket; Konoha’s old bulbasaur hoodie; One of Bokuto’s MSBY jerseys; One of Kenma’s Bouncing Ball shirts; Konoha’s green jumper that smells like Osamu- _that smells like Osamu._

Akaashi still remembers the day he put the jumper on that shelf, just after Osamu left; can still remember the embarrassing moment when he buried his face in the soft fabric before putting it away. 

And now that he brings the fabric to his nose again, his heart almost skips a beat at the fact that it definitely skips _many beats_ just from the scent of it. 

Sleep.

Warmth.

Comfort.

_Arousal._

**_Shit._ **

──

He manages to sleep for a few hours before the first wave hits, his entire mind assaulted by the scent of the jumper his nose is currently buried in. It’s familiar, soft, smells like his own shower gel but _different;_ his brain is too hazy to put two and two together anyway. 

It’s probably the middle of the night by now, but his mind goes from _sleep, warmth, comfort_ to _arousal, need, frustration_ in a few seconds. 

_Ugh._

The clothes he threw on the bed are scattered around him, pillows neatly put around and under him, creating a large cocoon in the shape of his body. The blankets are on the floor already, but it’s not like he’ll need them for what he’s about to do. His limbs work on autopilot when he pulls the box of toys closer to him to retrieve a middle-sized dildo without even having to open his eyes. 

He puts it directly next to his pillow before rolling on his side, keeping the green jumper under his head, right under his nose, throwing a leg over one of the pillows he built his nest with. And to be honest, he’s still half asleep when he starts humping the firm pillow now trapped between his legs, not even bothering to take off his clothes. It’s bound to become uncomfortable really quickly, slick already staining the back of his sweatpants, his boxers already soaked. 

The pressure against his dick is a relief when he starts rolling his hips, grinding harder and harder until it’s just- not enough anymore. Because as much as his cock _does_ need attention, already standing hard as a rock in his pants, his fingers are already sliding behind him, assessing just how much stretching he’ll need- and the answer is exactly the one he expected: _none._

Two fingers slip in easily, _too easily._ It’s ridiculous how _wet_ everything is, it’s disgusting- _‘You’re not disgusting, Akaashi- and I don’t think your sperm; or your slick, is disgusting’,_ Osamu’s voice rings in his mind, faded whispers in his ears, a lingering smell that still reaches his nose when he buries it in the jumper Osamu once wore. He’s not asleep anymore, but not fully awake yet, mind tripping in the limbos between transparent dreams and tragic awareness. 

His aching body is well grounded in reality, fingers working their way inside him, smell strong in his nostrils, breathing loud in his ears; but his mind is still barely conscious, Osamu’s whispers ringing in there despite his absence; the memory of his scent mixed with the one he left on his jumper; and his eyes are closed, a black curtain protecting his fantasy, allowing his mind to _almost_ believe that his fingers are not his, that the smell in his nose doesn’t come from worn out fabric, but from a tangible burning body- he can almost feel the alpha behind him, can almost hear him say things he never actually said- 

_‘You really do need me that much, uh?’_

And fuck, _yeah,_ he does. He’s not even really awake and he’s already considering _calling_ Osamu to ask him for help. Whimpering, he reaches for the dildo he left somewhere on the bed; finally, he gets rid of his clothes, throwing his shirt on the floor, his pants at the bottom of his bed and his soaked boxers somewhere around the basket where he puts his dirty clothes. 

_‘So, so needy, Akaashi. Take your time here- There’s no rush,’ Osamu whispers in his ear, hands gentle on his chest,_ and Akaashi’s fingers follow his movements, hands tightening on his hips, exactly where Osamu’s bigger ones would be. 

_‘Here, slow down a bit, will you?’_ and he listens, stills completely, stops grinding against the now dirty pillow. _‘let me take care of this,’ Osamu reassures him, fist closing around his shaft, tight around his head, just like he likes it- and it’s warm and tight, perfect._ His own hand just isn’t big enough to compare, it’s too small, his fingers too long, too calloused- but if he doesn’t focus on it too much, it does the trick- _‘roll over for me’ the alpha’s hand leaves his cock abruptly,_ and his fingers follow, gripping the pillow next to him; he rolls on his stomach, starts instinctively grinding against the mattress. 

_‘Raise your hips a little,’ Osamu orders_ and Akaashi slides the pillow he used before under his hips, and it’s hard against his dick. Moaning loudly at the pressure, he raises his hips in that position he’s been trying to avoid each time they had sex; 

But today, in the meadows of his brain, he can let himself have this. 

_‘You look so good, presenting for me,’ Osamu comments, and his hands come to rest on his hips for a moment before his fingers come to rest on his dripping hole, ‘fuck, Akaashi, you’re so ready.’_

“Please,” he whimpers, his fingers lingering at his entrance, not daring to enter,

 _‘You prepared yourself so well for me,’ and the fingers disappear,_ he reaches for his dildo, brings it against his entrance; realises he should have taken the bigger one already- but the fantasy is just too good- _he can feel the weight of Osamu’s cock against him, unmoving against his dripping hole;_ should he take a bigger one? 

_‘Wait a second,’ Osamu says_ and he lets the dildo fall on the mattress, _his cock disappears as he takes a step back, ‘we forgot the collar.’_

“Fuck-”

His body is only responding to _fantasy Osamu_ now, and it doesn’t matter if this isn’t real, if he doesn’t really need this stupid collar, he still throws his hand at the bedside table, fingers quickly finding the thick leather accessory hidden there; he tightens it around his throat, moaning at the familiar feeling against his scent gland, a small reminder that he _belongs to someone,_ even if it’s just an illusion- his hand finds the biggest toy he owns in the box on the floor. It’s bigger than the one he used on Osamu last time; he throws it on the bed.

_‘Good omega,’_

“Please,” Akaashi answers, not registering exactly what his own fantasy of Osamu just said, his hips finding back their initial place on his pillow, cock hard against the fabric. He buries his face right into Osamu’s jumper and whimpers when he finally takes the purple dildo and slides it against his hole. 

_‘Ready?’_

“Yeah.”

The first push leaves him breathless against the soft fabric; but the simple _need_ to be stretched, to feel him inside, deeper, is enough to make him push harder than just the first few millimeters. 

_‘You’re doing great,’ Osamu whispers, right against his ear; he pushes inside, slowly, so slowly Akaashi almost wants to push back against him- but in this position, they both know who’s in charge._ The dildo slips in easily once the first few centimeters are in, and Akaashi almost blacks out before the larger part of the toy finally meets his rim. 

_‘You feel so good around me, so warm, so wet- I’ve never- It’s the first time I-’_

“Ngh,” Akaashi starts rocking his hips against his pillow, cock twitching from the pressure and finally, he pulls at the dildo before pushing it back in, slowly at first, _but it doesn’t take long for Osamu to lose his patience and simply start thrusting inside of him as fast as_ **_he_ ** _wants, his hands are heavy on the omega’s hips and his dick is reaching the exact places he wants him to, ripping sounds from his throat Akaashi didn’t even know he could make._

His hips are now rocking back and forth, seeking pressure from his pillow, trying to let the dildo reach deeper, _Osamu hovers over him, his body completely shielding him from the rest of the world, and he’s trapped- trapped under an alpha who’s mounting him, pinning him to the mattress_ and he doesn’t care, even wishes it were true; _‘You want my knot?’ Osamu asks_ and Akaashi can only whimper.

“Fuck, yes, please,” he moans, probably loud enough for his neighbours to hear; he can feel his desire build up inside of him, his dick growing harder as he keeps fucking himself on his dildo, “please, Osamu, ngh!” 

_‘So good for me, so pliant,’ his hands come to close around his throat, and Akasahis throws his head back instinctively, letting him have access to his neck._ His hands quickly unfasten the leather fabric around his throat, letting the collar fall on the bed. _‘You’d let me bite you, wouldn’t you?’ Osamu whispers just under his ear._

“Do it, do it- please,” his wrist is starting to hurt from how hard he’s thrusting into himself, but his mind is focused on another part of his body right now, his free hand coming to linger over his throat, thumb pressing hard on his scent gland;

 _‘I’m going to claim you’, Osamu warns, voice deep, and his teeth come to rest over his gland, ripping a loud cry from Akaashi who bares his throat, pliant under his touch._ His nails leave deep crescent marks on his skin, everywhere around his scent gland, on his shoulder, before he starts scratching the gland itself- and the pain that erupts from his neck travels directly down to his cock. 

“Your knot- Fuck, I need- Osamu, _please!”_

But the knot doesn’t come- the knot _doesn’t_ come, it doesn’t- it never does- not when he’s alone- and why doesn’t the knot come, isn’t his alpha satisfied? Isn’t he good enough to make him knot him? Where is he- where’s his alpha, “ _please, oh god,”_ he whimpers again, forehead falling against his mattress, hips grinding against his pillow, and he fucks himself harder- harder, but the tension is gone- and at the back of his mind, the bitter feeling of _failure_ makes itself known. 

_‘You didn’t even manage to make your alpha come,’ Osamu spits,_ making Akaashi whimper. He closes his eyes, hips falling down on the mattress. He doesn’t bother to throw the pillow between his legs, knows he’ll put it back here anyway once he wakes up to start grinding against it again-

But for now, he lets himself drift back to sleep. 

And if the sour feeling of failure makes him grit his teeth, makes his eyes grow wet, he finds solace in the fact that the only people he failed to satisfy are himself and an illusion. 

──

Of course, it happens again. And no matter how hard he tries, no matter how hard he pushes that stupid dildo inside him, how high he sets the vibrations, no matter how he pictures Osamu (bend over him, under him, riding him, tied up to his bed, kneeling in front of him), he still can’t _come._

His cock stays desperately _hard_ in his pants when he allows himself to eat. He also finds out that it’s a _fucking pain_ to pee when your dick is as hard as a rock. 

Akaashi hates being in heat. It fucking sucks. But at least, he’s usually horny enough to not suffer _too_ much; the pain being erased for some sweet minutes thanks to the high rush that comes with climax. 

But heats without orgasm? 

Forget about Konoha Akinori being the only one allowed to cook for him for the rest of his life; Akaashi has found his new personal idea of hell. 

──

“Good afternoon Akaashi,” Sugawara greets him once he is seated.

“Good afternoon.”

“So, what can I do for you today?” the doctor asks with a gentle smile.

“I need a new treatment. The one I currently have has been failing me for months now. I keep getting these unplanned heats and- and the last natural one I had a few days ago was _painful_ like no other before,” he’s not sure he should mention that he was totally unable to _come._ Maybe he should. 

But the words never reach his lips.

“I see. Has anything new happened before that heat that might have changed your hormonal balance?”

_Ha! You bet!_

“I- I haven’t been triggering my heats correctly, I skipped the one scheduled in July, so I guess this explains why this one was more painful.”

“So one heat per year.” 

There’s no judgement in Sugawara’s eyes, but there’s no kindness either. It’s professional, serious, not unfamiliar since it’s the tone he usually uses in front of his own clients himself.

“Only this year. I usually trigger them correctly. But- But I’ve been spending most of my unplanned heats with an alpha, so I guess this has an impact too. We started a year ago.”

Sugawara nods, smiling softly. He’s been following Akaashi for years now and knows by now that he doesn’t spend heats with alphas, no matter how painful; until now of course.

“How frequent are these unplanned heats?”

“I used to have to go through one every year, even less. I’ve been under these suppressants for years, so it wasn’t surprising when after almost a decade I started having unplanned heats here and then. But since last year, I’ve been having them every six months, in between each normal heat.”

“Well, it is possible that your hormonal system was impacted by these knots, especially since you’ve been under suppressants for so long and not getting knotted as much as your body needs to.” Sugawara confirms with a gentle tone, scribbling stuff on his notepad, “it could become an issue if you didn’t have a regular alpha partner- but you seem to have found one.” 

Well, he’s not that sure about that. He still hasn’t seen or heard from Osamu since the last time they saw each other; which isn’t that surprising since they never really talked outside of necessity (meaning: heats). 

“But you don’t seem mated, which can also throw your hormonal system off balance if you get knotted anyway. Basically, your body is confused.”

“And is there any possibility to get my body to understand what’s happening?” Akaashi asks with a sigh.

Understanding the reasons for his situation is a good thing. He appreciates it. But getting a solution is what he needs.

“We have treatments with other hormonal dosage that might be what you need. You’ll still need to trigger your normal heats, and they could be more painful, but since you’ve been under suppressants for a long time with pretty painful heats, I don’t think it would make such a difference in your case.”

“So I’d be back to normal.”

“Yes. But- I can only advise you to either find an alpha to spend even your normal heats with, or to stop getting knotted altogether; because the hormonal imbalance might affect the efficiency of the treatment and we don’t have _that_ many options when it comes to suppressants. If you keep taking them, these ones might stop working on you in fifteen years and then you’ll have to get a new treatment, which will be the last dosage available.”

“I see.”

Being an omega fucking sucks, all of this, remember? Yeah.

“But more importantly, next time you have so many unplanned heats, Akaashi, don’t wait for a year before coming here, because it only gets worse when you don’t take care of them. Even one unplanned heat per year is too many.”

“Yes. I will do that.”

It’s not like he’s going to do anything that might throw his body off balance again. Spending heats alone twice a year, without the unplanned heats? Akaashi can do that, he knows he can. It doesn’t matter how good Osamu’s dick looks in his dreams, he won’t go back to it if it threatens his equilibrium. 

He finally takes the prescription Sugawara hands him, not without insisting that _he has to come back if something seems off_. 

Yes. He can deal with that.

──

Akaashi and Konoha decided to leave Tokyo for Kōbe after high school, more or less voluntarily. Konoha because he wanted to see new horizons; Akaashi because he got accepted into Kōbe University only. Not that he regrets it now. 

Naturally, after their first year there, going back to Tokyo to see their parents for New Year’s Eve appeared to them as a new tradition. 

That’s how Akaashi ends up spending a seven-hour drive with Konoha, listening to his _NARUTO_ playlist on repeat. He tells him he started watching the anime for the twentieth time, so that’s the only thing he’ll listen to for the next few weeks. Akaashi’s more than well acquainted with his best friend’s short lived obsessions and doesn’t really find himself minding that much after all. He still listens to _Nakushita Kotoba_ on a weekly basis, humming the song as he drafts his opening statements. 

“Do you know who’s coming for _hatsuhinode_?” He asks, his bag on his shoulder standing outside of Konoha’s car in front of his parent’s house. 

“The usual. Minus Bokuto, of course. But I think apart from that, Yaku’s back from America so we should all be there.”

He takes his suitcase from the trunk of Konoha’s car; noticing his parents standing in front of the house. They wave at Konoha who waves right back at them with a big smile. 

“Okay. I’ll see you then, and don’t be late or Kenma will kill you.”

“Sure, sure.” Konoha grins at him before closing the window of his car and driving away with one last wave in his parents’ direction. 

“Keiji!” his mother wraps an arm around him, his dad walking behind them as they enter the house. Even the cat comes to greet him. “You must be hungry!”

“I am,” he admits, and when his mother puts a plate of onigiris on the table, it only takes a few seconds for him to start eating. He almost forgets to breathe until his dad comes to sit on the other side of the table with an amused grin.

“It’s not going to run away, you can take your time.”

“Mmmh.”

Being an only child and the result of a very long procedure that involved many hospitals and a lot of strings pulled, his parents have always been _too_ caring; to the extent of being overwhelming at times. But who can blame them? Alphas and betas weren’t entirely incompatible, but it could take time and many attempts before working _._

And on top of being the only cherished child they would ever had- his mom being too fragile to be able to conceive another child- Akaashi presented as an omega. He can still remember the panic in his father’s eyes when he came back from work to find his son with his mom, in his room, his first heat hitting. 

“Tell us, how have you been?”

They smile at him with the warmth that he always misses when he goes back to his empty flat. 

“You’re never going to believe me.” His parents look at him with unhidden curiosity. “Konoha tried to poison me.”

He takes his phone out of his pocket and shows them a picture of Konoha’s chocolate cake he made on his birthday. 

“It looks good,” his father tries to judge the cake on the picture, which, now that he looks at it, doesn’t look _that bad,_ except for the badly drawn penis on top of the cake. Not that it’s recognizable to someone who didn’t get Konoha’s explanation anyway.

“It was hard as a rock, I almost lost a tooth. But he tried, I guess.”

“He’ll do better next time.”

“I hope his next cake will be for someone else though,” Akaashi laughs, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“How’s work going?”

“The same as usual, it’s been less busy lately, which is good.”

“And that couple you were talking to us about the other time? The omega couple who wanted to adopt?” His parents came so close to adopting themselves, they always end up remembering these types of cases. Which might be one of the reasons for Akaashi’s own interest in the matter.

“One of them obtained the adoption agreement as a single parent. The procedure will be long, especially if the child services find out about his boyfriend, but they can’t do anything, since he already has the agreement. They can only slow it down.” But now that he’s got Atsumu’s number, Mister Vice-President-of-the-Health-and-Welfare-Standing-Committee himself, he’s got his own strings to pull.

They keep chatting for a few hours before they all agree to go to bed. The next days will be busy, between the house cleaning and the food they’ll have to prepare for the first days of 2021; nowadays, Akaashi both loves and hates these traditions. 

_‘You don’t have to think about work all the time, dear, it’s okay to take a break sometimes, especially if it’s to help your old father with his car.’_ His dad tells him as soon as he’s up on the next day. 

And maybe he’s right; maybe these traditions he used to hate for being such a waste of time are now just the right escape he needs from his hectic life.

──

_january 2021_

“So I come back home to find out that Kou is eloping in the US?” Yaku comments, his face pressed against the plane window with a dramatic sigh. It’s a shame it’s not raining because the tragedy of it all would have been beautiful.

“He’s spending New Year’s there with _a friend._ ” Konoha nods, sitting a few seats behind Yaku.

“A _friend?_ ” Yaku tilts his head, his glass of champagne already half empty although they’re still on the ground. 

Kenma bought a private jet a few years ago, when he realised he would have to leave Tokyo to follow both Kai and Kuroo in Hyōgo. 

( _So I can go back to Tokyo for work’_ he had said at the time. 

‘ _Most of us would take the train’_ Konoha had noted. 

‘ _Too many people in the train’_ had been Kenma’s only explanation.)

Not that they’re complaining considering they’ve been spending _hatsuhinode_ above the clouds, in Kenma’s jet for years now. Konoha never complained again after the first sunrise they got to witness on the first day of 2016.

“To be honest, I think it’s a good thing. It’s the first time he won’t be alone on New Year’s after his dad’s passing. And I’m sure New Year’s in California is worth it.” Kai comments over his tomato juice, Kenma nodding wisely next to him. 

They haven’t taken off yet, but the sky is clear and they’re right on time to catch the sunrise, despite most of them being completely sleep deprived (Akaashi, Kai, Washio, Otaki); or straightass hungovered (Kuroo, Yaku, Kenma, Konoha). 

Their first day of the year always follows the same program; watching the sun set from Kenma’s jet before landing back, taking the train back to Tokyo, hurrying up to the Oji shrine to queue there for _hatsumōde,_ their first shrine visit of the year. And probably the last one of the year in Akaashi’s case. Although his parents sometimes still go to their local shrine, he gave up on the tradition years ago, now only visiting religious locations on the first day of the year.

“Do you know if he’s planning to stay there for a bit longer? I might be able to fly to California to keep him company.”

“Aran told me they were free until the eleventh of January,” Konoha informs him, “but I’m sure he’ll be busy enough, don’t worry _._ ”

He winks at the former libero who blinks back in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“He means that he’s there with _a friend_ who will _distract him,_ Mori.” Kuroo winks at his boyfriend who groans, gulping his glass of champagne in one go.

“Okay, okay, I got it.”

Akaashi eyes his own glass of champagne, not sure he can even bear the sight of more alcohol right now. Finally, the plane starts vibrating and the pilot announces they’re about to take off. 

──

No matter how many times they experience it, the first rays of sunshine that pierce through the clouds are always breathtaking, making even Konoha shut up. 

Akaashi doesn’t acknowledge the fact that as soon as silence falls upon them; as soon as pinks, oranges and reds ignite the sky before his eyes; as soon as the sun rises for only them to see; his first thoughts fly right back down to earth, to wherever Miya Osamu is; _I wish I could show you this,_ he thinks.

He takes a picture and drinks his entire glass of champagne in one go, Konoha looking at him funny before going back to the spectacle in front of them.

──

He’s walking down the stairs in front of the Oji shrine after his first and only prayer of the year when his eyes land on a familiar face. The man is buying a written oracle a few meters below him and when he turns around to leave the crowd, standing further away, reading his _omikuji,_ he raises his head for a second, eyes meeting Akaashi’s.

Both men smile at each other.

"Happy new year," Sakusa says, with a smile hidden behind his mask, warmth meeting his dark eyes when Akaashi joins him on the pavement.

"Happy new year to you too," Akaashi smiles back.

“Akaashi!” Komori yells, joining them with his own written oracle. “Happy new year!”

“Happy new year, Komori” he nods towards the libero.

He looks at his friends who are still on top of the stairs.

Realistically, Akaashi is just like any other person; he likes to keep his life organized (to avoid saying _compartmentalized)_. Tokyo high school friends were not supposed to be friends with the people he met in Hyōgo. Two separate lives, two separate boxes. Only Konoha and Bokuto would have the privilege to hop from one into the other. Sometimes. 

The thing wouldn't bother him _that_ much if Sakusa wasn't so obviously _aware_ of his relationship with Osamu. From the way he's looking at him, too intensely, like he's actually thinking about other things than just _not wanting to be here because there are too many people,_ Akaashi can feel that he’s seeing right through his soul. 

"It's been a while!" Komori nods.

"It has."

Itachiyama had never been a team Akaashi _liked._ Between Sakusa's closed off borderline-mean demeanor and the fact that they just wiped Fukurodani's ass each time they played each other, Akaashi had associated them with _burning_ _failure_. A thing that obviously changed after he got the opportunity to hang out with Sakusa and his new closed-off but borderline-friendly- _ish_ demeanor. 

"Oi! Akaashi! Sakusa!" Kuroo comes to join them, Kenma and Futakuchi, who joined them at the shrine, coming down the stairs behind him. "Itachiyama libero?," he asks with a head tilt. "Happy new year to you both."

Apparently, even Sakusa doesn't mind the former Nekoma team’s presence because he starts speaking with Kenma about whatever video game he tried after they last spoke (since when did they talk?) ( _'oh yeah, I gave Sakusa my number after the day you came to help with our neighbor. He said he liked to play horror games so I recommended one to him. We’ve been texting since then.')_ and even talks with Kuroo, which is quite a funny thing to see. 

Futakuchi and Komori, on the other side, obviously know each other because their interactions sound like private jokes (or maybe they just have the same weird sense of humour). 

“Akaashi,” Sakusa manages to walk away from Kuroo and Yaku who decided to go buy their own _omikuji._

“Mh?”

“Atsumu told me about all the things you were doing for the omega couples and the draft for the certificate regulation.”

“Yeah, we’re working hard on this one.” 

They were still working on the perfect draft that they _knew_ would be amended by the opposition anyway, trying to negotiate some terms with the more conservative side of Atsumu’s party. 

“My parents are both omegas,” Sakusa casually informs him, in a low voice so that no one around them can hear, not that anyone would be listening anyway. “So it means a lot to me, that you’re doing all of this.”

Akaashi looks at him, surprise obviously visible in his eyes. He never thought _Sakusa_ had been raised by- _your own biases are showing, Keiji._

“Oh, did they go through-”

“They used the single parent path. My dad is the only legal parent I have. My older siblings were adopted by my mother though, since she works for the Child Services. Our ward in Tokyo never voted on the law, so the certificates don’t work here; but it means a lot that you’re trying to implement it in Hyōgō.”

“We’ll win this fight,” Akaashi says with a small smile, the one that is so deeply intimate, probably only Konoha and Bokuto have seen it, “even if I have to die fighting for it.”

“Don’t die, though,” Sakusa laughs humorlessly, “I know someone who might never recover from it.”

The former ace’s gaze is serious on him, and suddenly, it feels like the weight of the past few months he’s been spending avoiding Osamu is back on his shoulders, heavy, rock solid.

“I’m sure Atsumu will be able to survive without me to help him,” Akaashi jokes, not even believing for a second that Sakusa will fall for it.

“Yeah, now that you’re talking about it, your sacrifice might cost us both Miyas. So try not to die.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Atsumu really likes working with you,” he finally says, “I haven’t seen him talk about someone with stars in his eyes for a long time. It’s nice to see him excited like that.”

Sakusa smiles at him in understanding before he leaves, walking back towards Komori who’s excitedly talking with Yaku. Their legendary rivalry didn’t die after Yaku left the professional circuit and Akaashi can’t help wondering what would happen if someone put Bokuto, Yaku, Komori and Sakusa in the same room for more than ten minutes.

“You’re working with Atsumu?” Konoha’s voice comes right next to his ear, sending shivers down his arm. He could even start trembling right now if he wasn’t so used to his best friend _terrifying_ him. So, he manages to remain impassible. 

“I-”

“I’m going to tie you to your fucking bed, Keiji, I swear.”

“I know you want me in your bed, Aki, but try to keep it private.”

“I’m not joking.”

“I know. Suna gave me my Wednesdays off so I can work with Atsumu at the Prefectural Assembly. I’m not spending _more time_ working, I swear.”

“You swear.”

“I swear.”

If he spends a little more time with Atsumu talking about the project than _only his Wednesday,_ he’d rather not tell Konoha to avoid waking up with his limbs tied to his bed frame. 

But contrary to what a lot of people seem to think, Akaashi does not particularly have a death wish. Especially if it doesn’t involve some grandiose martyrical sacrifice.

He meets Sakusa’s eyes when Komori waves at them as they take their leave; and he realises with a bit of surprise that today, Sakusa became more to him than Itachiyama’s ace, more than Atsumu’s boyfriend (or whatever their deal is), more Osamu’s and Konoha’s friend who was invited to his birthday. He’s definitely more than the guy who drove him to Kenma’s. 

On the first day of the year, Sakusa becomes a person in itself; maybe not a friend but definitely someone he can see as directly linked to him, instead of being a _friend of a friend._

_Don’t die, I know someone who might never recover from it._

Akaashi smiles at the man’s back, already far away, and takes his phone from his back pocket; opens his direct-message application and takes a deep breath.

─✷─

_Hairdresser’s Story To Continue Through Blow Dryer. _

by **Miya Osamu**

─✷─

_december 2020 _

Sayo has this incredible power to change and yet still stay the same no matter how long you’ve been away. Mount Ushiro is still there, rising high in the background; the traditional houses; the sunflower fields; nothing has moved away. Only people change, move. The ground stays the same, the sky remains dotted by thousands of stars shining just as brightly as they did ten years ago when they still all lived here. Even the ramen shop they used to go to as teens is still the same, with the same old recipes and the same old owners.

“Wasn’t Sakusa coming with you this year?” Izumi asks over her bowl of ramen that’s hiding the bottom of her face, only leaving her sharp eyes apparent. 

“It’s a shame, I really liked that man,” her girlfriend adds with a small smile and Osamu almost chokes on his egg. 

Ayaka has been a part of their life for a long time now, first as Izumi’s high-school _friend_ until Izumi introduced her as her girlfriend four years ago. But her presence is familiar enough for none of the twins to take offence in her involvement in _Atsumu’s love life business._

“He’s spending New Year’s in Tokyo with his family; he can’t reasonably spend his New Year’s eves with friends every year.”

The look that goes between Izumi and Ayaka is _loud._ So loud that Atsumu immediately grows red just from witnessing their amused smile. Osamu only sighs and goes back to his noodles. It’s only the four of them at their table, their parents being too busy with work until the end of the week to join their children. 

“I’m sure mom and dad would be okay if you want to go spend New Year's at _a friend’s house_ to meet with their family next year, you know. I’m sure they’d understand.”

Osamu hums in approval. They come back home often enough for their parents not to mind if they skip one traditional meal now and then. Especially if it’s for Sakusa Kiyoomi who left a pretty memorable impression on both of their parents.

“Especially since next year, Mirai will be here to keep them busy,” Ayaka adds with a devilish smile. 

“How is she by the way?” Atsumu jumps on the occasion to change the subject.

And there is no better subject than Mirai, Ayaka’s seven-year-old daughter, born from her marriage with her high school boyfriend. Thankfully, the two of them are still in cordial terms, sharing responsibilities regarding their daughter. From the few times Izumi had discussed the matter, it seems like she even likes the man.

“She wants to start playing volleyball because she saw that video of you at nationals,” Izumi puts her chopstick back on the table and grins at her little brother.

“Why was she watching videos of me in high school?” is Atsumu’s first and immediate reaction.

“We wanted to show her why she shouldn’t dye her hair blond just yet.”

“Mean, ‘Zumi!” but even Atsumu cannot deny the disaster that his high-school hair was.

“Do you think she’ll become a setter?” Osamu asks, ready to see chaotic cries around the table. 

“She wants to become like _Uncle 'Tsumu_ so I guess that’s what she’ll aim for.”

“A shame,” Osamu sighs with an exaggerated pout, but frankly, it’s a relief. At least, he won’t have to train Mirai if she becomes a setter. Atsumu will be the one doing all the work; and Osamu will only have to sit next to the net, criticizing his twin’s moves. Perfect family bonding time.

“It’s a shame she won’t go to Inarizaki, though” Atsumu shakes his head with a sigh. 

Izumi and Ayaka had moved out of Hyōgō many years ago to live in Sendai, meaning their daughter would definitely go to-

“She’ll probably end up going to Aoba Jo-”

“WHAT?!” Atsumu cries, and even Osamu stares at his sister with a cold disapproving glare as his brother starts waving his chopsticks around.

“You’re going to put _my_ niece in SEIJOH?”

“Unless we move to Tokyo, which will probably be the case, she will go there, yes.”

“And if you go to Tokyo-”

The twins look at each other, not even wanting to acknowledge the _feeling of betrayal._

“You’re right. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her into Itachiyama,” Izumi nods with her signature grin that she used to wear just before taking her hammer to hit the twins in the face. 

──

_ january 2021  
_

“Do you think you’ll spend New Year’s eve at Sakusa’s next year?” 

“No.”

It’s past one in the morning and the only reason they didn’t get drunk with Izumi and Ayaka is because they’ll have to get up in a few hours to join their friends for _hatsuhinode._

They used to all go there, climbing Mount Ushiro with their friends and families; but their parents are growing old and Izumi is way too happy to finally catch a break to get up at three in the morning to go on a hike; leaving only the twins and some of their friends to honor the tradition. 

“Because you don’t want to, or because he doesn’t?”

“Because we’re not together. He came last year because his parents were abroad to visit his brother in Europe. It won’t happen again.”

Osamu sighs from his bottom bunk and turns on his side; doesn’t really know why he keeps asking. It should be obvious by now that Atsumu just doesn’t want to talk about his relationship with Sakusa, that he doesn’t want to _fix it._

Maybe because it doesn’t _need_ fixing, but frankly, Osamu’s not completely sure that’s true. 

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?”

“That he might- I don’t know- fall in love with someone else.” _Because it bothers me. To think that Akaashi might find someone else._

“He won’t.” 

“How do you know?”

“Because he loves me,” Atsumu says that with so much confidence, so much carelessness; like it’s obvious, in the same way he would say the sky is blue- that Osamu almost envies him.

He can only laugh bitterly. 

_Lucky you._

──

Akagi, Kita and Atsumu are only small figures ahead of them on the path to the top of Mount Ushiro. The night is still pretty dark and the only lights they have comes from their flashlights and the stars above them. 

“How’s it going with your parents?” Osamu finally asks, after their last topic (MSBY’s last season) has died down.

“I’ve seen worse, to be honest. I’m glad Ben came back this year, at least I didn’t have to be alone with them.”

“I see.”

As an adult, he ended up appreciating Aran’s composed nature; if you manage to forget that it comes from being raised by two particularly dominant and fairly uncompatible alphas. 

When he and Kita had broken things off, his parents had been _devastated._ His current relationship with _a beta_ was still something they had a hard time accepting, making each visit home excruciating, especially when his younger brother, Ben, wasn’t here to act as a decoy.

“Don’t you want to spend it with Konoha, though?”

“He asked me if I wanted to come but I don’t- I don’t think it’s fair of me to meet his parents if he can’t meet mine.”

“I haven’t known him for a long time but he seems pretty chill,” maybe _too chill_ considering _that_ cake _,_ “do you think it would bother him?”

“Mmmh,” is the only thing Aran answers, and Osamu can’t see it but he’s pretty sure he shrugs. 

“I mean. I wouldn’t mind, considering the situation,” or at least not too much. But his only real relationship was with Semi, and meeting the parents was totally out of the question at that time. 

Heating leftovers for his ex-boyfriend and Atsumu had been the closest thing to a family dinner he ever got to experience with Semi.

“Apparently he and his friends from Tokyo usually go to see the sunrise from the sky; one of them owns a jet or something like that.”

“Damn.”

“Oh, but you know some of them, right? You met Akaashi, Konoha’s best friend, I think? He was at his birthday party.”

Suddenly, he’s glad that it’s still dark because Aran definitely would have seen his face getting hotter (and therefore redder), and his eyes widening. He inhales sharply before answering.

“Yeah, I met him,” he manages to say with a pretty neutral tone.

“There’s Kenma too. Konoha told me about Sakusa having to drive Akaashi there and all-”

“Yeah, I didn’t get to meet him, but I remember him from high school.”

“He’s the one with the jet.”

“Well, I don’t know why you refused, it sounds like a pretty cool opportunity.”

“Yeah, maybe next year,” Aran says, thoughtful. 

“Ah- Never mind, please don’t go there. You’ll abandon me with them,” Osamu whines dramatically. There’s no reason for him to hate being alone with the three others, but it’s just for the sake of it.

“Well, maybe Atsumu will bring Kiyoomi again, so at least you won’t have to deal with him. Or maybe we could all go to Tokyo.”

“Mmmh, _hatsuhinode_ from the sky-” _and with Akaashi,_ “I won’t say no.”

Aran laughs quietly and starts walking faster, “we’re going to lose them,” he says, and Osamu follows, running behind him as they reach the top of the mountain.

“It’s not the world that’s broken Atsumu, it’s the people. The earth doesn’t care if alphas are fighting, or sleeping, or singing about old tales,” Kita says, his hand resting on Atsumu’s arm when they arrive at their usual spot.

And even though Osamu doesn’t really know what he’s talking about; he knows from Atsumu’s small smile, that it’s everything he needed to hear.

──

So, the sunrise from the top of Mount Ushiro isn’t that bad, after all. Maybe they’re not as _high in the sky_ as some other lucky bastards, but the view is still breathtaking- and it doesn’t matter how many times they’ve seen it, it doesn’t matter how many times they’ve seen the sun rise, painting the sky in pastel colours for a few minutes- it doesn’t matter because once it starts, colours blooming before their eyes, they still look at it with the same stars filling their gazes, silently recognizing just how _small_ they are. 

Aran and the twins have been coming here since they were around ten, Kita and Akagi joining them later in this tradition; and still, the scenery takes their breath away every damn time.

He still remembers the small gasp that escaped Sakusa’s parted lips when he came with them the previous year.

Would Akaashi be as impressed, considering he’s been spending his own first sunrises of the year in the sky? 

Turning his head to his right, staring at the empty space next to him, Osamu lets himself realise that, _yeah,_ he’d really like Akaashi to be here right now to welcome the first sunrise of the year. It must be different, to see the birth of a new day with the wind blowing in your hair instead of being trapped inside a plane, hidden behind a window. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter, because he knows, heart weighing heavy in his chest (- too full- but of what?;)- he knows that Akaashi is probably somewhere in the sky, looking at the exact same star, at the same burning colours, and maybe, he’s thinking about him too. 

So, he takes his phone out of the pocket of his jacket and takes a picture. 

“Hey take a picture of me ‘Samu!” Atsumu yells when he sees him with his phone in hand, and despite the roll of his eyes, Osamu obeys.

They end up taking a picture of the five of them; and behind them, there’s nothing but the immensity of the mountains, blanketed in soft warm light; nothing but the infinity of that hopeful feeling that comes with the first sunrise of the year.

──

They start walking back home after spending a few hours on top of the mountain, talking about life- getting weirdly philosophical. This time, it’s Osamu and Kita who lead the way for their small group; and after Atsumu is done with running after his twin with a dirty tree branch, he disappears in the woods, targeting Aran instead. 

They spent their last hour of hiking in comfortable silence, both lost in their own heads. Of all his friends, Kita Shinsuke has always been the most terrifying one; not because he’s blunt or threatening (he can be, but Osamu usually isn’t the recipient of Kita’s threats), but because he _sees, hears, and knows._

Kita Shinsuke does not need him to speak to know. And although they see each other only once or twice a year, he still reads him like an open book. 

“You look well, Osamu; did you find your peace?” Kita asks him once they reach the first houses built at the bottom of the mountain.

His tone is the one he rarely uses with him; he usually keeps it for Atsumu, the one that sounds like he’s so much older than he really is, so much wiser. 

_‘Let yourself hate, let yourself grieve, and once you’re objective again, you will see if this hatred was deserved.’_

That was the last time Kita had used that tone with him- to give him advice about Semi. And once again, he’d been right to tell him that, to use these words. 

Relationships, not unlike people, are to be grieved, when they’re lost. Something Osamu had never had to consider before; and that Kita definitely learned, if not from his breakup with Aran, probably from his past lives that he seems to remember. How could someone so young be so wise otherwise?

“I did.” 

He truly did. Now that he comes back here, to the ground he walked on as a toddler, he can feel it; the weight lifted from his shoulders, his footsteps heavier on the snow. It’s like his existence is more tangible now, different from the ghost he was for a few years.

“And where does that leave you?” Kita asks, eyes piercing through his skull.

 _Alone, vulnerable._ Steady on his feet, but ready to fall again.

“Lost.”

“Take it one step at a time.”

“What if I have to go through that again?” _heartbreak, grief, the slow path towards acceptation._ Going back to ground zero.

“Then you’ll fight your way through the fog again.” He makes it sound so easy; “don’t think about the fall while you’re still flying.”

“Are _you_ advising me to be _careless?_ ”

“You’re not being careful here, Osamu, you’re being _scared,_ these are two completely different things.”

──

When they get closer to the city center, path gentler for his legs, he feels his phone vibrating several times in his pocket and only realises then that he probably lost the signal as soon as they started climbing Mount Ushiro. He scans through the different notifications, eyes stopping on one particular name he was definitely not expecting to see there. 

┌──────────────────┐

**Akaashi Keiji**

_Happy New Year, Osamu. Thank you for everything you have done for me this past year. I hope this new year will be kind to you and your loved ones._

└──────────────────┘

He stares at his screen for a second, blinking rapidly just in case it’s his mind playing a trick on him; but a smile quickly fights its way to his lips. He stops in the middle of the road, Kita now a few steps ahead. It’s been months since he left Akaashi’s apartment, heart heavy in his throat, certain he’d never hear from him ever again. 

But January First is the perfect time of the year to start over; and for the first time ever, Akaashi texts him to say something else than to ask him if he’s _free right now._

┌──────────────────┐

**Miya Osamu**

_Happy New Year, Akaashi. Thank you for bringing so much light into my life during the past year. I wish you the best for this new year._

└──────────────────┘

He sends the text without allowing his brain to overthink it and runs towards Kita who’s looking at him with tranquil curiosity. 

“Something important?”

“In the grand scheme of things, probably not,” but to him, it doubtlessly is. 

Kita smiles knowingly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
> with chapter 8 we will be starting part 2 of this fic, ARE YOU EXCITED BECAUSE I AMMMMMMMMMM  
> KLAUDIA I HOPE YOURE PICTURING SAKUSA SEEING THE FIRST SUNRISE OF THE YEAR WITH ATSUMU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> bokuto's friend he went to the US with is OBVIOUSLY ushijima.  
> kuroo and yaku are together, yes. i love them. at first i wrote 'husbands', thats how much they love each other.  
> its my first time writing kita, i am INTIMIDATED AS FUCK.  
> also, extra kuddos if you know where the names izumi/mirai/ayaka come from (they have the same character design in my head; except izumi has a hammer)
> 
>  **EDIT 18/12** : i will update this fic after i'm done with [ad astra per espera](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27914965/chapters/68357530).
> 
> i am taking a little break but i should come back in february or maybe even a little bit before.  
> see you all soon! :)


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